


Dreamstate

by Neoniichan



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, But I may not actually include it, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Consensual Sex, Day/Night AU, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Haiku Abuse, I can't believe that last one is actually a tag, Intercrural Sex, King Victor Nikiforov, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Modern Fantasy AU, Mpreg is possible in this universe, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Rating May Change, Rivals, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Unreliable Narrator, Yuuri is a terrible king
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neoniichan/pseuds/Neoniichan
Summary: The kingdoms of Day and Night have been discordant with each other as long as anyone can remember. For a brief window of time, they have been on neutral speaking terms, but lately, the Day Kingdom has been partaking in some particularly shady activities, most notably annexing smaller countries surrounding it using its massive armed forces. Meanwhile the Night Kingdom attempts to curry favour with other countries by throwing an extravagant banquet.Yuuri's not ready to be king, and he's not ready to face any of the foreign diplomats invited to the banquet. Least of all the sinfully beautiful King Viktor from the rivaling Day Kingdom, who--by the way--has the most perfect ass in history and less than desirable intentions behind his arbitrary visit. What exactly those intentions are, Yuuri can only speculate; he just knows that he's going to have to resort to drastic measures, even if that means forcing himself to overcome his fears and seduce Viktor in order to protect his kingdom.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for literally almost a year now. Like... ten months. I've been picking at it between updates on my trashfic, Send Me An Angel, which I was supposed to update at the beginning of this month, but instead I was getting this ready to post. Actually, I wanted to wait a little longer before I put this up, but I'm waiting for a XC stream to go live in twenty minutes, so I decided that I would do this while I wait.
> 
> So, some specs on this. It's almost completely unbeta'd. I've literally been tweaking this first chapter for ten months. There might still be problems, but I guess we're going to have to find out. I had one person do a read-through, but like a dumb ass, I didn't really ask any questions about what he liked and disliked, though he's a member of the Yaoi RP chat I run, so I did get a little bit of a blow-by-blow. Not literally, though. That doesn't happen until later.
> 
> Please let me know if I've missed any tags, let me know if you liked it or hated it. Let me know what you liked or hated. I'm so chill and I really want to improve on my writing and planning skills, so every bit of feedback counts. Let me know if you'd even like me to continue posting this, because I've got two other chapters already completed and was considering either a weekly or bi-weekly posting schedule.

A heavy sigh left the Night King’s lips in a puff of white, his breath clouding out in front of him as he leaned on the railing of his balcony, looking out over the blackness of the ocean below. The cliff side that his palace was perched upon was bathed in crystal moonlight and a thick blanket of fresh snow coated the grounds, sparkling like starlight; winter hadn’t even officially begun in the Night Kingdom yet and already King Yuuri was trembling with the low temperature, even though he had a thick fleece shawl drawn close to his shoulders.  
  
There was a fire crackling away in the hearth of his bedchamber, but the king was feeling melancholy, and couldn’t bring himself to return indoors. The past several weeks had been quite stressful to the young royal, what with the ruler of the neighbouring Day Kingdom choosing to wage war against smaller realms so that they could be annexed with ease. Now, rather than being cushioned by these smaller countries--Dawn and Daybreak specifically--the only thing that stood between the Night Kingdom and the Day Kingdom were The Horizon, and a handful of small nations on the dark side whose economies were centered more around tourism than anything else--Twilight and Nightfall were two nations, for instance, known more for their environmental beauty and hot springs, respectively, rather than for their military strength--so if Day invaded, then Yuuri knew he would be forced to step in to protect them. And war with the Day Kingdom’s massive armed forces was the last thing he wanted to think about.  
  
It didn’t help that his advisor had pushed Yuuri to hold an event at this time in hopes of  drawing in elites from other countries, with whom he could create new and better relations and trade deals. It was a good idea, Yuuri had to admit, but he’d been on the throne less than a year and he still didn’t think he was quite ready to start making decisions that might affect his large country on the international scale. That seemed so intimidating to him. Right now, he was paying others to keep his relationships afloat by responding to his mail in a professional and mature manner--most of the time, all he had to do was put a signature on the blank line at the bottom of a page after it had been okayed by his advisor, and it would be whisked away to its respective destination: no fuss, no muss. Yuuri liked it that way. He’d never asked to be King at all, anyway. Actually, he would have preferred to avoid the throne entirely, perhaps hand it off to his older sister and have the very first Queen ruling their country actively. Mari would have been much better suited for the job with all her knowledge on politics and economics anyway, and as an added bonus, the people already loved her no nonsense approach to leadership.  
  
Yuuri had much smaller aspirations in life. He just wanted to skate. He was terrified of other people as it was and spent more time than not hiding out and shirking his duties, which he felt terrible about, but he just couldn’t help himself. Sometimes there were things that he couldn’t get away from, things that were such a serious matter that people looked to him for an answer, and that always had him drowning in panic. What if he made the wrong decision? What if he single-handedly erased generations worth of peace just because he was completely incompetent?  
  
He just wanted to skate.  
  
He had never wanted to be king, and never so soon as this. He was freshly twenty-three, woefully inexperienced in the world of politics. It was unfortunate that his father had taken ill and been put on full bed rest when he had. Earlier that year when Toshiya still had some of his strength, he’d ceded his kingship to his only son, and though he’d been available to aid in certain decisions before, he most certainly was not well enough to do so now, leaving Yuuri completely on his own. Not that the meek little king had ever bothered his father much to begin with. He’d spent more time bombarding his advisor, Celestino, with questions than anything else.  
  
“Highness?” The heavily accented lilt of his advisor’s voice shook him, and Yuuri stood upright--if the pale white of his skin hadn’t already been swathed with red from the cold, it would have heated to a similar shade now out of embarrassment. “What are you doing out here? It’s freezing. You’ll make yourself sick.”  
  
“Ah… yeah, sorry….” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing, but he attempted to straighten himself out and joined Celestino inside his bedroom. The stark contrast in temperatures had pain crawling across his skin, though the warmth was not completely unwelcome. He looked down at his hands to notice that they’d reddened where the cold air had bitten into  them, and he began to rub them vigorously as a distraction. “I guess I got lost in thought. I just went out for some fresh air and before I knew it….”  
  
The ponytailed foreigner clicked his tongue, shaking his head with his hands on his hips. “You have to be more careful, Yuuri. Just remember that you’re the last heir of your bloodline; if for some reason you’re unfit to rule, then the throne will go to the Lee family, breaking hundreds of generations with a Katsuki at the helm of the Night Kingdom. It certainly would put you in the history books, though.”  
  
The thought of this made Yuuri shy away. That was the last thing he wanted. It was bad enough that he knew he’d eventually have to deal with the repercussions of the Day Kingdom’s recent invasions, but to also fail so miserably that he actually needed to be replaced would be horribly humiliating. That was the kind of thing that scared him the most. If he had to rule, he wanted everything to stay peaceful, for his citizens to be happy, and for his entire reign to be as uneventful as possible. Hopefully when he eventually had a son of his own, he wouldn’t be such a flake. Hopefully he’d be a good king, better than Yuuri ever could have dreamed… and that was if any royal at all would have him so he _could_ produce an heir.  
  
It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, though. One of his suitors had invited himself to the banquet that was to be held in twenty-four hours time, despite the fact that Yuuri had asked his messengers to please turn him down as directly as possible while still being polite. A Prince of The Horizon--the mountainous region that stood as a border between the Night and Day Kingdoms--Christophe was not supposed to ally himself to either nation that his people had famously divided for as long as time itself could recall.  
  
As long as there had been Night and Day, The Horizon had been separating them. Fairy tales told that the two opposing Kingdoms had been settled and founded by two feuding sons of the Giacometti patriarch--with their father finally sick of his eldest sons constantly at each other’s throats, the two oldest of three boys were cast off each side of the wall running the length of a great mountain range--Noctis was thrown into the blackness on one side, while Deus was tossed onto the blindingly bright side. They were never allowed to return home, and they were absolutely forbidden from speaking to each other. Generations ago there had finally been a change of heart at the peak of the kingdoms’ hostilities. The fact of the matter was that they both were beginning to decline in resources--things that only their opposition could provide--and the Day and Night Kingdoms had mutually agreed to open borders, to begin to socialize under the Fair Trade Act, which allowed certain groups to exchange goods and resources, without turning a monetary profit. In other words, the Day Kingdom was able to cultivate more food than its citizens could ever eat and had been using the everlasting light to produce energy for interesting luxuries such as solar electricity, while the Night Kingdom had jewel, mineral and salt mines, and an ocean of fresh water that could conceivably be used in the irrigation of crops while also being safe for drinking after being processed in Day’s purification systems, not to mention their strong, diverse fishing industry. They helped each other, and up until just a few months ago, it had seemed like both sides were content with this.  
  
Yuuri couldn’t look at their relationship and say honestly and truly that they were at peace… especially not with Day annexing all the smaller countries along their side of the border lately, but…. It was good enough. If they could sit at this happy medium for the next forty years, he would be perfectly content, and until the time came that he could step down from the throne to hand it off to his heir, he was perfectly content hiding out in his room.  
  
The clock on his mantle chimed out five times and the dinner bell rang out with it. Yuuri threw himself down on his bed with a dismayed whine, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow while Celestino stood by. “I don’t want to go down. Can you tell them I’m sick again?”  
  
His advisor raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”  
  
“…No. Just… anxious, I guess.”  
  
“What is there to be anxious about, _topolino_?” Celestino sat himself at the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, and Yuuri definitely did not miss the endearing nickname that his advisor had used for him ever since they’d first met. It translated to _little mouse_ ; Yuuri knew that Celestino was referring to his meek nature and his tendency to run and hide when he felt threatened. That little squeak he gave when he’d been caught off guard didn’t help much either.  
  
He sighed, resigned. “I know the banquets are a good idea and all…. I’m just….” He paused, fought with himself over the wording, and then groaned loudly, flinging himself over onto his stomach. “I can’t do it! I heard that there were guests joining us for dinner because they were going to be arriving early, and I’m scared that it’s Chris again! He gives me the creeps,” the young royal finally confessed, pulling a pillow to himself to whine into as he curled up and prepared to dive in underneath the covers to escape everything. “Last time he was here, he tried to teach me to pole dance, Celestino. _Pole dance_! I wouldn’t do something like that if I were paid in pork cutlet bowls.”  
  
“Sounds like something you should be talking to Phichit about.” Celestino responded in earnest with a slightly awkward cough, and pushed himself back up to stand. “I can’t tell you what to do, Highness. I can only tell you what your options are so you can make an informed decision on your own. Right now, it’s in your best interest to come down for dinner and try to build relations with foreign diplomats, no matter how hard that sounds. You’ll see--once they meet you, they’ll love you. And you’ll realize there was nothing at all to be afraid of from the beginning.” The foreign man cleared his suit, looked down apologetically on the pathetic lump that was his king, halfway to tears as he sank into his own self-destructive mind, trying to smother all his woes away in the goose down of his pillow. “Or, you can stay up here and dig your own grave.” A sigh left his lips as he turned to exit the King’s suite. “I’ll send your valet up to help you dress; Yuuri, please consider coming down.”  
  
With that, he took the handles of the large French doors leading into the rest of Yuuri’s apartment, though before he could open them, they were wrenched out of his grip and he stood back, slightly shocked. “ _Holy shit_! Yuuri, you gotta come down here right now and see who just showed up out front!” Phichit--Yuuri’s valet and best friend from the time he was very young--sprung into the room, practically shoving Celestino out of the way unapologetically as he went to bounce on the bed with gusto. He grabbed Yuuri’s arm and tugged while the King resisted, acting as much like dead weight as he could. “Come _on_ , Yuuri! He’s your type,” the dark-skinned boy tried, rolling Yuuri over so he could sit on his hips.  
  
“Phichit, please. I just--”  
  
“He’s got a nice ass.”  
  
“ _Phichit_ \--”  
  
“No, dude. Like, he’s got a skater’s ass. He has the most beautiful ass I have ever laid eyes on. An ass so beautiful I cried, Yuuri. I _cried_. Like… history-making, crop-watering, skin-clearing, artists painting it on cherubs on the ceilings of chapels, choirs singing, doves flying-- It’s a beautiful ass, Yuuri. There are no words that can accurately encompass the beauty of his ass. Like, it was sculpted by the hands of God himself. Poets probably have written odes to his ass. _I_ could write an ode to his ass. Hold on…. _It is exquisite; Yuuri will really like his ass; This is a haiku_. Okay, that last line doesn’t count, but still. Yuuri,” When Phichit didn’t stop, Yuuri finally tossed the pillow aside, propping himself up on one elbow so he could properly glare daggers at his all too enthusiastic valet. “Yuuri. You like asses.”  
  
He huffed in return. “Gee thanks, I didn’t know.”  
  
“And as a man who lives by the ass, you must also die by the ass. Which means, Yuuri, that if you are going to call yourself a true ass man, you must brave the world behind the wall, go out there, and just look at the craftsmanship that was put into that fine ass. That _particular_ fine ass. Even if it kills you.” Phichit seemed so serious, and his ability to describe things in such a tantalizingly energetic way had something stirred inside the young King, something that he dared not admit was a slight arousal at the idea of the world’s most perfect derriere.  
  
“Fine. I’ll just come down to look,” he ceded, and Phichit jumped back with a squeal of delight, pressing his fingertips to his lips as he bounced in place. “But I’m not going down there dressed like this. If I get caught, I want to at least be presentable.”  
  
“You mean, you want me to make you so sexy that when he looks at you, he’ll cum right on the spot.” He was grinning, and Yuuri frowned even harder if at all possible for a few reasons. The first of them was that Phichit knew exactly how Yuuri felt about people who could mystically achieve orgasm in non-sexual situations and with no physical stimulation--that time Chris had come over should have been enough to get the point across. The second was that he was certain that no one would ever mystically achieve orgasm on the spot just from seeing him; he’d seen himself in the mirror enough times to know that he was plain to look at and his only really attractive feature was his defined hipline, just a little wider than most men to give him an almost feminine curve… when he wasn’t carrying a spare tire under his shirt. And third was that language. He’d never understood how some people could just say things that seemed so lewd without batting an eye, and it bothered him. This, he knew, Phichit did simply because it bothered him, so he had given up complaining about it long ago.  
  
“Honestly, Phichit, you’re the most eloquent person I know.”

 

* * *

 

Within minutes, Phichit had Yuuri dressed in a navy-coloured button down and a pair of black slacks, his hair brushed back off his forehead. His eyes were rimmed sparingly with dark liner, his skin tone evened with concealer and a dusting of foundation, his lips carefully pinkened just enough to draw attention to their fullness. They’d fought over whether or not he would wear his glasses, though Yuuri eventually won out, reminding Phichit that there would be no point in dressing up to check out a rear end that he couldn’t see. The whole ensemble seemed to send mixed signals, especially when coupled with Yuuri’s nearly palpable uncertainty; the way the fit of his clothes accentuated his soft body, sitting on the curves of his hips was nothing short of alluring with the top button left open on his shirt, but there was a timid smile and a swatch of bright red streaked across his face and down his neck that suggested that this could not possibly have been his idea.  
  
After a little more of a struggle, Phichit wrestled Yuuri out of his apartment suite and down a long hall with tall ceilings, luxurious red runners, and walls decorated with oil paintings of every variety--most of them were portraits and landscapes that had been there longer than Yuuri had been alive. Some of them were chosen by the young king himself, newer ones that he’d had commissioned for his own tastes, and they were so distinct from the rest in the fact that a warm feeling seemed to encompass them--he preferred flowers, especially roses, in pots or vases or not yet cut from the bush, though he liked them specifically bathed in the grey mist of morning light or the golden hue of late afternoon. His favourite was a mixed bouquet sitting half wilted in the shade of an attic, dressed with antique furniture as the sun slipped its long fingers through the slats of the storm shutters. There was a sort of mystery about the sunlight that compelled him to stare for long minutes, examine everything that was bathed in gold rather than silvery blue. The moonlight was beautiful, but it was daunting and mysterious and cold, and Yuuri had grown up with it, ever present throughout his life. The sunlight was something different and intriguing.  
  
By the time they reached the sweeping marble staircase that led into the entrance hall, Yuuri had become somewhat more complacent, following along behind Phichit without having to be dragged. They passed a massive painting of himself wearing the crown jewels with a navy blue mantle piece that was trimmed in black and shimmered with stones meant to depict the stars; Yuuri pointedly looked away from it. The expression on his face was painted to be that of a fierce ruler, rather than the scared, doe-eyed expression he’d actually been wearing the whole time he’d been made to sit. Needless to say, he hated it. It reminded him of who he was supposed to be, what a failure he was.  
  
From there, they turned down a wide corridor, which at the end opened to the ballroom, an atrium made up entirely of glass panelling on the walls and ceiling that extended back off the palace along the cliff side so that guests could see the moon on the ocean. On the right side of the corridor, about three quarters of the way down was the dining hall, which was currently closed off in preparation for the upcoming banquet. And even nearer to them was a small door that one would miss unless they knew it was there, opening to the private dining room where Yuuri and his family ate their meals together in the evenings--there was no need for a table that would seat over a hundred people when they numbered only six, including Phichit and Celestino who might as well have been family. Yuuri knew what he’d see when he went inside. The décor in the dining room was comfortable, not at all fancy, with a small fireplace in one corner and a table that would only seat twelve if the diners didn’t mind bumping elbows. He expected to see his mother and sister already inside and waiting, likely Celestino as well. It was their unexpected guests that he was uncertain of, and he shifted in the hall with discomfort.  
  
“Ready?” Phichit asked, poised to push the door open while he gave Yuuri a wolfish grin. “He’s gotta be in here already, since they rang the dinner bell.”  
  
The young royal hesitated, feeling the anxiety well up in his chest, because he knew that once he went inside, there was no easy way to escape. He groaned. “I don’t know…. I mean… what if I make a fool of myself?” Phichit relaxed his hand on the door, softening his features and parting his lips to say something encouraging, but Yuuri waved him off before he could. “No… just…. I mean, I’m already down here, so go ahead in. I just…. I’m going to walk down to the ballroom and collect myself, and I’ll be back. I promise. Ten minutes, tops. And if I don’t show, you can have my dessert.”  
  
“Man… that’s really tempting,” Phichit whined, shifting his weight and frowning. “Yuuri… you just have to bite the bullet sometimes and do things that you don’t wanna do. I know I’m more like the village idiot than your valet most of the time, but you have to trust me on this. It’s part of my job to make sure that you don’t get into any trouble, even if that means dragging you around by your ear when you’re being your own worst enemy.” He sighed, scratched at the back of his head, but kept his eyes locked to Yuuri’s in a show of sincerity. “I don’t do it because it’s my job, either. I do it because I love you, and I want you to be happy. But you’re never going to be happy if you keep sabotaging yourself like this.”  
  
Yuuri withdrew, dropped his head, because he knew that Phichit only wanted the best, and yet his chest felt so constricted and he felt his vision blurring while his head wandered so far off that everything sounded like he was underwater. “I’m sorry,” he managed through the fuzz, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe until he felt a warm pressure on his upper arms, vaguely heard Phichit’s voice calling out to him. It took far too long for him to come down, and when he finally did, it was into Phichit’s patiently waiting hands. “I don’t think I can,” he mumbled, voice noticeably weak.  
  
His valet sighed sadly, giving a deft nod of his head. “I get it. If you think it’ll help you get a hold of yourself, walk down to the ballroom and come right back. If you’re not in the dining room in ten minutes, I’m coming to look for you. Okay?” Yuuri returned the nod and Phichit patted his back twice before disappearing into the dining room, leaving the King alone in the hallway. There were people who would frown upon this, because part of Phichit’s job was to make sure that Yuuri kept his health--he should have stayed until Yuuri was ready to go in for dinner--but Yuuri silently thanked Phichit for knowing when to give him space.  
  
He turned and began a slow, drifting saunter toward the ballroom at the end of the hall. With most of the lights off, it was the best place to see the stars from inside the palace, and Yuuri often found himself wandering down to lay on the floor while everyone else was asleep. He enjoyed the solitude, watching the black of the night sky with the moon on the horizon, counting as many stars as he could before losing track, and by then he’d forgotten whatever it was that was bothering him. He didn’t have time for that now, but the total aloneness he hoped would still help.  
  
Except that he knew as soon as he neared the entrance that he wasn’t alone. He could sense it. Even if there was nothing obvious to give his company away, Yuuri knew that the atmosphere of the room was different from normal, and so he proceeded with caution.  
  
The King paused in the doorway, peeked around the corner, eyes squinted as they landed on the tall, willowy figure standing by the longest glass wall, staring out over the ocean in wonderment. He hadn’t noticed Yuuri’s presence, or if he had, he didn’t say anything. He just leaned in toward the window, breath fogging it so that every now and again he had to pull away to wipe the condensation with the rolled sleeve of his light blue check button-down so he could see. Yuuri couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over this intruder, noting the way his finely tailored tan waistcoat accentuated the curve of his body, and sat at his hipline in the back to show off his perfectly shaped derriere, while it dipped slightly lower in the front. His long legs were clad in a pair of white slacks, completing an outfit that looked totally casual on him, despite it being on the cusp of formal attire.  
  
Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s ass, though. Forget everything else. This had to have been the man that Phichit had been raving about earlier, and the Night King found himself wondering why he was out here rather than sitting in the dining room with everyone else. He shuffled forward, taking a deep breath as he remembered what both his advisor and valet had said to him. It was for the good of the country, right? And probably for the good of himself. If he could just open his mouth, say one word…. That was all it would take. He just had to make a graceful entrance, maybe remark on the beauty of the sky, talk about how the ballroom was built all in glass like this to show off the spectacular view…. But he was shaking and suddenly the floor was falling out from underneath him. Yuuri stumbled, tripping down the three short steps into the ballroom and landing on his face on the floor below; his glasses dislodged and skidded across the marble.  
  
The sound of his body colliding with the floor echoed throughout the empty air, hanging awkwardly above them in the split second it took Yuuri to realize what had happened. In that moment, Yuuri wished he could disappear.  
  
The man had turned immediately and he could tell from the shift in stance that he was staring, even if Yuuri couldn’t exactly make out all his features with his blurred vision. He could only blink dumbly as the fuzzy blob of the man came closer with almost urgent footfall echoing around them. “Are you alright?” he asked with a heavy accent that the young royal couldn’t exactly place as he made it to Yuuri’s side and assisted him while he struggled up into a sitting position. “Just take it easy. Does it hurt anywhere?”  
  
Yuuri squinted. He could make out skin slightly darker than his own and hair that was almost white--there was a shimmer to it that made it appear more silvery in the starlight. With his bangs covering one side of his face, there was only one large watery pool of an iris visible--blue eyes that were so rare in the Night Kingdom. “Uhm… thanks. I’m okay. I just lost my glasses,” he replied hesitantly as he tried to tear his gaze away to scan the floor again.  
  
“I’ll find them for you. Tell me what they look like.”  
  
Yuuri reached up, brushed a rogue strand of hair out of his line of vision--though it didn’t help much--and wet his lips. “They’re blue,” came his lame response, and internally he was kicking himself. He couldn’t see this stranger’s face, but his stomach was still churning and there was a knot forming in his sternum that made it hard to breathe. Yuuri didn’t need to be able to see the stranger’s face to know that he was abnormally and inhumanly attractive; the soft tone of his voice, lowered carefully to account for the echo in the open air, was enough to set the young king’s skin on fire in the most pleasant and simultaneously uncomfortable of ways.  
  
“Blue,” the silver-haired man repeated, then mumbled something in another language that Yuuri didn’t understand as he pushed himself to his feet, searching the whole vicinity and eventually emitting an excited sound as he stooped to pick what Yuuri could only assume were his glasses up off the floor. “Are these them?” he asked as he scampered back over and knelt next to the young royal, almost too happy to assist.  
  
“I can’t really see, but I’m going to guess that mine are the only glasses on the ballroom floor. So yes, probably.” He reached out, taking them tentatively to slip them onto his face. For a moment he blinked back into focus, and finally allowed his eyes to return to the stranger though it was with much caution. And for a good reason. He could sort of tell without his glasses, but the man with the perfect ass had a face to match--that is to say, he embodied physical flawlessness. He had to have been the most stunning human being Yuuri had ever laid eyes on, and now here he was sitting on the floor in front of him after having fallen face-first down the stairs. Humiliation overtook him in an instant, and Yuuri’s cheeks reddened considerably.  
  
The man tilted his head, leaning in to look a little more closely at Yuuri’s flushed face. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re getting awfully red. Here, let me feel your forehead.” He lifted his arm, fingers sliding across the pale white of his skin and that was it for the virginal Night King.  
  
Yuuri practically shrieked and shot away, recoiling as if he’d been burned. “ _No_! No-- I mean-- I’m okay!” He heaved for breath, hand spread out on his chest as if it would help pull the knot from his bronchial tubes to allow sweet oxygen to fill his lungs. It didn’t help. He couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful being in front of him, his eyes wide with shock. “I’m fine,” he repeated, over and over, as if trying to convince himself. “I’m fine.”  
  
The radiant creature stared, head tilted, looking concerned, but eventually nodded. “I don’t believe you, but alright.”  
  
There was a long silence between them where the two men only stared at each other, Yuuri too tongue-tied to say anything, and the mysterious silver-haired man too confused to comment any further. The eventual quick footfall of someone running down the hall toward them was what had both men looking up, blinking dumbly up at Phichit as he gasped and covered his mouth. “ _Ohhh_ , Yuuri, you minx! I should have known!” Yuuri spluttered none too prettily in response to this, and the stranger’s eyes widened on him.  
  
“Yuuri? So then you’re--” This was promptly silenced by another figure--an older man whose appearance made the silver-haired stranger grin impishly.  
  
“Vitya, what do you think you’re doing on the floor?” The balding man demanded, rather than asked, and Yuuri watched as his acquaintance gathered himself up onto his feet and dusted himself off. “Dinner was served almost twenty minutes ago. It’s rude to keep our hosts waiting like this; you should know better!”  
  
“Right, of course. I just got caught up in the scenery, that’s all.” The younger foreigner kept his gaze locked down on Yuuri the whole time he spoke, only looking away when he was rather roughly instructed back down to the dining room; even then, it seemed rather reluctant, Yuuri thought.  
  
“Holy. Shit.” Phichit’s voice broke Yuuri’s concentration and he finally tore his eyes off the spot where this Vitya had been standing just moments before. He gave his valet a questioning look, but said nothing. It wouldn’t have mattered. Phichit was practically squealing and vibrating with excitement. “I should have known when I went in and Perfect Ass Guy wasn’t there! Good job, Yuuri! You pretty much bagged him; if I hadn’t showed up when I did, you probably would have ended up with carpet burn all up your--”  
  
“Phichit!”  
  
“ _Oui, mademoiselle_?”  
  
Yuuri huffed, finally getting to his feet and pushing his hair back where a few rogue strands had escaped the hold of the gel; the wash of anxiety was carefully creeping back down out of his throat, and he shook his head to clear it. When he spoke again, there was an almost reverent sound to his voice. “Who was that, anyway?”  
  
Phichit stilled, chewed on his lip, and shifted nervously. “Yeah, about that….” Yuuri knew it couldn’t be anything good. “You’re not going to believe this, Yuuri, and I kinda feel bad trying to set you up now… but Perfect Ass Man is the Day King, Viktor Nikiforov.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes and Yuuri absolutely could not deny that. But now that he knew, the thought of being alone with his opposition, his enemy…. “If you don’t mind, there’s nothing you can say in private that you can’t say in front of my family.” He bit the words out a little more harshly than intended, but Viktor simply smiled, seeming to understand that this was just a defence mechanism that had been unintentionally triggered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of my stress levels already being as high as they are, I'm going to try for a biweekly schedule and see what happens. Not much to say other than that. Response has been kind of lukewarm, so I guess we'll see what happens. :T

“ _That_ was Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri repeated, somewhere between complete shock and utter disbelief; it wasn’t that he wasn’t at least somewhat familiar with his enemy… it was more that the number people who had seen him in person was a distinct minority, and Yuuri understandably was not one of them. It was almost impossible to find his likeness painted or photographed anywhere in the Night Kingdom, though he was quite famous among his own people so Yuuri was sure if he’d looked harder he could have found something sooner. It was just kind of a disappointing thought, knowing that a man so stunningly beautiful was likely there to take his kingdom. Mostly, he was curious as to how Viktor managed to just waltz right into Midnight--the capital city of the Night Kingdom--without The Horizon having anything to say about it.  
  
Phichit shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s what they were saying, anyway. Can you imagine what kind of balls a guy has to have to invade a bunch of small countries and then take off into enemy territory like he _didn’t_ just order mass genocide? I wonder how he sleeps at night.”  
  
“Probably pretty soundly. As far as I know the casualties were kept to a minimum; not that it excuses the fact that he’s already annexed at least two much smaller countries, and it’s not like he was entirely peaceful about it, either. What a bully.” The young king sighed, raked his hand back through his hair and shook his head. Just his luck, that Perfect Ass Man would turn out to be the exact kind of person that he absolutely could not consort with. Now he felt like he had to defend the Day King in order to defend himself. “It wasn’t _mass genocide_ , either. I think it had more to do with wanting their resources without having to pay some crazy tariffs or something. I don’t know. I just know that they weren’t rounding up citizens and slaughtering them needlessly. He’s got that much of a heart, at least.”  
  
“We’ll find out. Either way, I’m more curious as to what he’s doing here. It’s pretty stupid, don’t you think? It’s not like it’s any big secret that he has his eyes on Twilight and Nightfall now. What if we just, like… captured him and beheaded him?” Phichit wasn’t wrong by a long shot. Viktor had to be stupid to think he wasn’t on thin ice right now, especially considering his extracurricular activities as of late. Did he really think that Yuuri was just going to open his home, cordially invite him to spend a private dinner, stay in one of their suites, attend the party like any other guest, and just totally ignore the fact that he was after the dark side of The Horizon next? Or…. Well, that was exactly what they were doing, wasn’t it? Yuuri deflated. He’d probably used his relative anonymity to gain access to the dark side, traipsing right through the smaller surrounding nations, surveying what he planned on acquiring, and then making his way right into the palace at Midnight, which he probably would turn into some kind of vacation getaway or something.  
  
Yuuri groaned, pushing his glasses up onto the top of his head so he could rub at his eyes. Why, why, _why_ did things have to be so difficult? “Why couldn’t he just be some good-looking foreigner here to check out the hot springs or something? Why does he have to be _that_ Viktor Nikiforov, of all people? He could be any other person in the world--”  
  
“Except Chris.”  
  
“Except Chris, and I would be totally okay with that, so just--” Yuuri stopped, took a deep breath, and whined. “Why does he have to be _that_ Viktor Nikiforov?”  
  
Phichit patted his king’s back in as unsupportive a manner as possible, grinning like the cat that got the canary. “Chill out there, Juliet. Next thing I know you’re going to be running off to marry him in secret and committing _seppuku_ just because he lives on the other side of the continent.” Yuuri turned a glare on his valet that was sharper than the bite of the pre-winter frost, though Phichit didn’t seem at all deterred by this. Instead, he started pushing Yuuri toward the stairs and down the hall to the dining room. “It’ll be fine. Just keep reminding yourself how much you hate people like him, and it won’t matter how perfect his ass is.”  
  
Yuuri wasn’t so certain of that, but he allowed Phichit to guide him back to the dining room without too much of a fuss anyway. The whole situation just seemed off to him, from the Day Kingdom’s sudden annexing of Dawn and Daybreak to the fact that their king had suddenly shown up at his door with no warning the day before a major event. Maybe it was just his anxiety making a mountain out of a molehill, and Yuuri wanted so badly to believe that; he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… _off_.

 

* * *

 

There was silence when Yuuri finally entered the dining room. With wide, worried eyes, he pleaded for some kind of an explanation from his mother or sister, for one of them to save him from the situation that he wanted nothing to do with. Viktor was seated directly to his right as an honoured guest, leaning with his elbows on the table and gazing dreamily at his host, which made Yuuri less than comfortable though Phichit seemed to enjoy it immensely if the way his grin widened was any indication.  
  
“Vitya,” the harsh voice of who Yuuri assumed was Viktor’s advisor barked out, barely catching the silver-haired king’s attention. “Elbows.”  
  
“Right, of course, Yakov,” he responded, though he just tilted his head and ignored the order, getting a new angle to take in more of Yuuri’s face. “Elbows….”  
  
The man--Yakov--sighed, clearly exasperated. Yuuri took this as a sign that Viktor didn’t generally listen and was frequently found with his head in the clouds, even when he was supposed to be acting polite and respectful. Viktor had a mind of his own and was easily excitable. And clearly he saw something interesting in Yuuri’s vicinity that had him staring hard. Was there something on his face? Just all the makeup Phichit had put on him. Maybe on his shirt? It had been clean when it was taken out of his closet, as far as Yuuri knew. Still, he couldn’t help feeling around to make sure he didn’t have something stuck to him.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri caught his mother lift a hand to cover her mouth, her round face lighting up with what the Night King could only identify as pure, unfiltered glee. “Oh my,” she practically sang, and Yuuri immediately lowered his head to his hands. This couldn’t be good at all. “Vicchan, this is my son that we were talking about before dinner. Yuuri, maybe later you should show him around? Show him where the ballroom is; he’ll really love it!”  
  
She’d already nicknamed him. This was _really_ bad.  
  
“...I don’t really have to,” he commented dryly, noticing with an unusually sharp pang of guilt when Viktor recoiled as if the table had suddenly heated to an unbearable temperature just with the tone of Yuuri’s voice. He shouldn’t feel bad for sounding annoyed by this arrangement. He had no reason, and yet…. Maybe it was his imagination that Viktor looked so stricken. Maybe he was just eyeing the dishes that had been set down in front of him because they were likely much different from what he was used to at home and not because he was upset that Yuuri sounded less than thrilled to have met him at all, let alone in such circumstances. That _had_ to be it--the food was strange. “Uh… anyway, sorry about… how we met.” Yuuri flushed; it was a test to see what Viktor’s reaction would be, and….  
  
The silver-haired king instantly revived himself, brightening the room in a way Yuuri was sure only the sun could, despite the darkness from the everlasting night encroaching on the low-light from flickering candles and the fire lit in the hearth. “Don’t be, Yuuri! It’s alright, really. I’m happy to have met you at all, though it’s nice to see you in better light. Now there’s a face to go with the name.” He watched for everyone to be served--suddenly much more polite than he had been--before taking up his chopsticks and fumbling with them clumsily. That night’s dinner was katsudon and a bowl of miso soup, and Yuuri couldn’t have cared less who was sitting to his right--he was more preoccupied with getting to eat than with the trials of a foreigner... who was there to start a war, he couldn’t let himself forget. There was a sound of exasperation from next to him, a petulant whine of his name, “ _Yuuuri_ ….”  
  
He took a deep breath, a strip of breaded pork halfway to his open mouth, and glanced up at the king to his right who was acting more like a child than a man who ruled an impressively large and powerful kingdom. The sight of Viktor clutching his chopsticks hopelessly--and that sinfully pretty pout on his perfect lips--had Yuuri sighing softly, setting his bowl back on the table. “Like this,” he gently chided with a small shake of his head. He leaned over, took Viktor’s proffered hand to mould it into the proper position. “Hold the bottom one like it’s a pen, and then the top one sits here.”  
  
Viktor’s gaze kept switching between Yuuri’s hands manipulating his own to next show him how to open the utensils and take food, to his expression as he concentrated on his instruction carefully. To anyone else in the room, it was obvious that Viktor hadn’t heard a word Yuuri had said to him. Yuuri, however, was totally oblivious--he just wanted to get this over with so he could eat.  
  
“Got it?” the dark-haired man inquired, and Viktor jumped.  
  
“Oh…. Uhm, yes. Thank you.”  
  
When Yuuri looked up at the others gathered for dinner, he saw the collective pause as if time had stopped to solely observe that moment. He looked back at Viktor, saw him staring as well with a sort of reverence, and something clicked in his head to make his face immediately go pink. “I was just--” Phichit’s wicked look stopped him before he could try to explain himself away, inevitably digging his own grave, and Yuuri recoiled, taking up his own chopsticks to bury himself in pork, egg, and rice.  
  
Silence fell over the room once more, and lasted until nearly everyone was through with their meal. Then it was Celestino who broke it, just to confirm what Yuuri already knew was fact. “Highness, no one has properly addressed the situation here, but to your right is His Majesty, Viktor Nikiforov, the King of Day. He’ll be attending the banquet tomorrow night as our Guest of Honour.”  
  
Viktor nodded, finally setting his bowl on the table after a gruelling battle to make his chopsticks conform to his will. “We use the title _Tsar_ , but the feeling is still the same,” came his soft correction, and it seemed that with the addition of hot food in his body, Viktor was weighted down and simultaneously mellowed. He turned to Yuuri then, his eyes the colour of the skies in Yuuri’s most precious paintings, hooded and tender. When he spoke next, it was dulcet. Yuuri very nearly bit his lip. “I really am pleased to meet you, Yuuri. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you alone after dinner and perhaps get to know you better?”  
  
There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes and Yuuri absolutely could not deny that. But now that he knew, the thought of being alone with his opposition, his enemy…. “If _you_ don’t mind, there’s nothing you can say in private that you can’t say in front of my family.” He bit the words out a little more harshly than intended, but Viktor simply smiled, seeming to understand that this was just a defence mechanism that had been unintentionally triggered.  
  
“If that’s how you feel. Alright then.” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, leaning in just a little closer. _Too_ close. There was a warmth slipping over Yuuri’s hand like sunlight as Viktor’s crept closer to cover it, and his breath caught. “Yuuri Katsuki, my equal in every way…. Marry me. Join our kingdoms.”  
  
Yuuri choked on air as he inhaled. “ _What_?!”  
  
“Marry me,” Viktor repeated, as if he thought Yuuri somehow hadn’t heard him. He simply held his smile without it faltering in the slightest. “We’ll join Night and Day into one massive political power, ruling at each other’s sides. We can call it _Nychthemeron_. What do you think?”  
  
“What do I think?” The Night King was incredulous, his pale skin flushed to the deepest shade of red that was physically possible, mouth flapping open and shut uselessly as he tried to come up with a proper response. “Well--” He glanced at each of the diners currently seated at the table, lingering on Celestino as his eyes _pleaded_ for aid. His advisor’s wild eyebrows had raised considerably, and he stared back at Yuuri, unwilling to step in for him. Yuuri was on his own. His sister was laughing, his mother was hiding behind her hand and giggling girlishly, and for once Phichit was too stunned to comment. Even Viktor’s company didn’t seem to know what to make of his proposal.  
  
Finally, seeing Yuuri’s reluctance, the silver-haired king relented with the faintest of frowns. “I see…. Take your time to think about it, if that would help. You don’t have to decide right away. But I think it would be in your best interest simply to accept while you can.”  
  
Those were words that had Yuuri’s anxiety firing up, so close to panic that he could taste it. He ripped his hand back without thinking about how Viktor would perceive the action, standing abruptly to rush out of the room as the walls began to close in on him. He didn’t notice Phichit rising to follow on his heels, or Celestino apologizing for his abrupt reaction and filing out of the dining room shortly after Phichit. Yuuri ran. He fled up the grand staircase in the entrance hall and disappeared into the first room he could find where he had a decent chance of hiding, gasping desperately for air, and Phichit kept stride the whole time. He took Yuuri’s shoulders once they were locked away inside the library, filled with the soothing scent of dust and firewood and the old leather-bound volumes that lined impossibly tall shelves.  
  
“ _Breathe_ , Yuuri. Come on.” The words were firm, commanding, and the panicked royal had to obey to the best of his ability, even through his tears.  
  
He wheezed out his words, “I can’t-- I can’t--”  
  
“Yes you can, Yuuri. Breathe deep. In through your nose, count to ten.” Phichit helped him count, timing his inhale while Yuuri tried his best to do as he was told. “Hold it. And out through your mouth. There. Again.”  
  
Phichit coached his breathing until the buzz of panic began to wan off, fading from the edge of his vision like a nightmare after waking. The chill of fear left behind with Viktor’s subtle threat remained though, even after Phichit had wiped the tears from his eyes and pulled him in close for a hug. “I can’t, Phichit-- He’s going to--” Yuuri let out a choked sob, trembling against his valet’s frame; he wasn’t even entirely sure what Viktor was going to do if he refused. What _could_ he do, really? What steps could he take to force Yuuri’s hand? At the moment, short of dragging him home or killing him, there was nothing. As far as Yuuri knew, Viktor hadn’t brought legions of soldiers along with him to retrieve him or to take his kingdom by force. In the end, it had felt completely open and optional for him, whether or not he chose to accept… except that one line at the end. What had he meant by that?  
  
Yuuri wracked his brains, silent and limp against his valet’s body. He heard the door open; Phichit and Celestino mumbled quietly about something, though the distraught king mostly blocked it out so he could continue to worry quietly in his own headspace. Then there was a large hand engulfing his shoulder, softly asking him to look up. “It’s going to be alright, _topolino_. His Majesty seemed genuinely upset over what happened; he wanted to apologize, but I’ve asked him to return to his quarters for the night while we decide the next course of action.”  
  
Yuuri softened just a little, swallowed down the lump that was trying to build in his throat. “ _I’m_ the one who should be sorry. I think I might have overreacted a little--”  
  
“A little?” Phichit chimed in, as unhelpful as he could possibly be. Yuuri glared, but he was also glad for the familiarity of his best friend’s retort.  
  
“I just….” He didn’t need to finish. They all knew what he was thinking. They couldn’t exactly win in this situation, considering the Day Kingdom’s previous show of power. Either Yuuri married Viktor and handed Night over peacefully, or Viktor skipped in happily from the other side of The Horizon to take control  by force. They’d never dealt directly with the Day’s government before, and had no previous knowledge of what kind of ruler Viktor was, outside of the fact that his citizens seemed happy and their economy was on the rise. But what exactly was Viktor doing differently to make that kind of change where the previous ruler fell flat? It was that kind of uncertainty that had everyone on edge. All these things coming into play gave Yuuri so much to think about. It took him a while, but he finally made a decision. “I… I think I’m going to consider it.”  
  
Phichit immediately pushed Yuuri back to arm’s length, checking him over with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. The hardness of his voice was so out of character for him, that it had Yuuri startled. “I think you’re insane. You know if you do it, you’re just handing everything over, right? Don’t you have any pride as our king?”  
  
Yuuri hung his head, and Celestino placed his free hand on the valet’s shoulder. “Phichit. Let His Highness make his own decisions. There’s nothing at all wrong with giving in to them. In fact, if Yuuri teases him with a lengthy courtship, Night could greatly benefit from a marriage with someone as powerful and influential as Viktor Nikiforov.” Next, he turned to Yuuri, expression significantly more grave. “Yuuri. Fighting for Night is not an option or a suggestion. Either you reject him and protect your country through a war or you seduce him and make sure Night is protected as a condition of your marriage. This is serious, Highness. You can’t just walk away this time and let other people make decisions for you.”  
  
Yuuri sighed, bit his lip, worried it between his teeth. He knew Celestino was right. He’d been forced into a situation where only he could do what was necessary to keep his people safe. That was supposed to be his role, right? They couldn’t protect themselves. He had to be there for them, take the fall, put himself in harm’s way…. Was Viktor really all that harmful, though? He came off spoiled and childish and somewhat immature, but Yuuri was certain that there was much more to Viktor than just what was on the surface. Something much more sinister, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Viktor’s accomplishments and his demeanor just didn’t add up, and Yuuri knew he had every right to be suspicious. He didn’t voice his worst fears, though. Instead, he put on an uncertain little smile and took a deep breath. “I know, Celestino. I’ll do everything I can.”  
  
“You better,” Phichit piped up, looking less than pleased with how the whole conversation had transpired thus far. “Because Yuuri, if you screw up, I swear to God, you’re gonna catch these hands.”  
  
There was a lengthy silence where Yuuri narrowed his eyes on his valet, clearly unimpressed and trying to understand exactly what it was he meant. In the end, Yuuri drew a blank. “....What?”  
  
Phichit let out a frustrated huff in response to Yuuri’s blatant ignorance, and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you marry him, I will fight you.”  
  
Yuuri pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. What was that about being glad for Phichit’s retorts? Yuuri certainly didn’t feel that way anymore. He was a very special sort, and the royal could appreciate that most of the time, but now it was the last thing he wanted to deal with. “Why don’t you just say what you mean, Phichit? Really.”  
  
“Wh-- I did! Anyway, it still stands. I will beat your ass until it gets all swelled up and looks as nice as Viktor’s.”  
  
Yuuri couldn’t help but shake his head, ducking around his valet and advisor as he made for the door. He could listen to Phichit rant anytime--for now, the most important thing was spending as much time with Viktor as possible so he could attempt to figure him out and make a decision as to whether or not a marriage would really be all that beneficial… whether or not Viktor was the kind of person he could spend the rest of his life married to, even if it were to save his country.  
  
It felt like marching off to the guillotine.

 

* * *

 

Viktor had been given a palatial suite in the opposite wing of the palace from Yuuri’s apartment. It wasn’t a place Yuuri made a particular habit of traversing, so he ended up getting lost, eventually giving in and following a maid who was on her way to bring fresh towels for Viktor’s bathroom. He sheepishly thanked her as she stood in front of him at the door and rapped loudly to get Viktor’s attention on the other side, but she brushed it off, and it just made Yuuri feel worse. He knew what he was there for, and he knew that if he didn’t play his cards right, it could possibly turn out horribly for everyone else involved. When Viktor pulled the door open, gave the maid a cool once-over and then brightened when he saw Yuuri standing behind her, Yuuri almost wanted to believe that this was not the most dangerous arrangement he’d ever had to face.  
  
“Yuuri! You’re not mad at me, are you? I’m so sorry about earlier. Please come in!” The maid slipped by as Viktor shot past her to usher Yuuri into the room, motioning for him to sit in one of the armchairs by the fire where he’d been previously drinking tea and buried in a book with a worn down cover, obviously well-loved. Yuuri weighed his options, pursing his lips together as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the chair, hands planted firmly on his knees. Viktor sat opposite him, leaning forward with his eyes wide and excited and brilliant blue. “So, you want to talk?”  
  
“Uh….” Yes, he did, actually. He just didn’t know what he wanted to say. “I’m, uhm… sorry… about earlier,” he ground out slowly, his voice a weak little croak, barely audible over the crackling of the burning logs. Viktor leaned in a little closer, eyebrows raised. “What I mean is….” When Yuuri glanced up, the last thing he wanted to see was Viktor staring; it unsettled him, made him feel vulnerable. “I can’t accept your proposal.”  
  
Viktor immediately stiffened, sitting back like he’d been speared through the heart. “Yuuri--”  
  
“It’s just… I don’t know you. I don’t know the kind of person you are or if we’d even get along. Maybe it would be good for the Night Kingdom; I don’t know. I’m not fit to rule, and I think Night would be better off with any other king, but…. I still can’t just give it up to the second person who offers. That wouldn’t be right.” Yuuri kept his head down, entirely missing the way Viktor wrinkled his nose at his words.  
  
“You’ve had proposals before?”  
  
“Not important.” Because the last thing Yuuri wanted to recall was Chris trying to talk him into stripping down to dance naked on the pole while telling him that he should come back to The Horizon and be his Queen. “What I mean is… I’d like to just spend time with you first so I can make the right decision. It can’t just be about my kingdom. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your life married to someone you can’t stand, especially if that person is like me. Would you?”  
  
Viktor’s stance softened significantly, his voice breathed out so quietly that Yuuri might have missed it if he hadn’t been hanging on the Day King’s every exhale. “Yuuri….” There was questioning on his voice, and Yuuri couldn’t fathom what it might be that Viktor wanted to know. He probably was thinking of the best way to tell Yuuri that he had no choice now, that Yuuri was coming back to marry him no matter what he actually wanted. That the proposal had been a ruse to make him feel like he had the chance to make his own decision. But that’s not what came next, and frankly, Yuuri was left confused and reeling. “Why would you say that about yourself? I’ve only just met you and I know anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then there was a pause, after which Yuuri was left even _more_ confused. “Maybe it’s me? I understand if you’re trying to be polite, but if you don’t want to be with me, please say so.”  
  
“What--” Fucking Hell. “No, I just meant…. I think it would be better for us to court for a while.” Had Viktor ever even seen himself in the mirror? Maybe he was blind. That was the only fathomable way he could think someone would be _lucky_ to have Yuuri, and that Yuuri _wouldn’t_ want him. Of course Yuuri wanted him. But Yuuri wanted him in a way that didn’t leave much room for them to build a long-lasting relationship based on mutual trust, respect, friendship, and love. That was what he wanted to tell Viktor, but he didn’t know how to put it into the right words. He kept fumbling over them in his head and getting visibly frustrated. And the longer he took, the more discouraged Viktor looked. So, he swallowed his pride and closed his eyes. “I don’t want it just to be a sexual thing. I want to be in love with someone before I marry them, so I know we’re both in it for the long run.”  
  
Viktor blinked; it was his turn to be confused, and it showed in the way his crystal blues widened and his perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “You’re sexually attracted to me?”  
  
Of course that was the only thing he’d take away from all that. Yuuri’s face went beet red and he covered it with his hands. If he could have just slipped down inside the chair and been swallowed whole by the cushions, that would have been perfectly fine with him. He groaned loudly and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I mean… it _is_ , but it’s not.”  
  
Viktor finally looked away, pressed his index finger to his lips and frowned. “I think I understand what you mean, though. There really isn’t such thing as love at first sight, is there?” Even though it was phrased as a question, Yuuri didn’t get the feeling that Viktor really wanted an answer, so he stayed silent, head in his hands, and waited. Finally, Viktor let out a sigh, though it seemed to be much lighter than any previous to it. “Alright! Tell me about you, then. How old are you? How did you become King so young? Do you have another suitor currently? And tell me all about the Night Kingdom, and the things you like to do!”  
  
Yuuri was a little taken aback by this, finally removing his face from his hands to blink almost stupidly at Viktor. Did he really think this was going to dramatically change Yuuri’s mind? It was a start, though, so he obliged. “Well… I’m twenty-three, and my father came down with a severe illness a while ago; he’s too sick to work and I’m his only heir, so….” There really wasn’t much else to the story, and Yuuri wanted to avoid talking about suitors if at all possible. The rest he really wasn’t too sure about--of course he knew his own kingdom well enough, but he couldn’t put words to how beautiful it could be when he only felt dissatisfied being there. He couldn’t give Viktor a reason to press on that marriage proposal.  
  
“So young…. It must be hard.” The silver-haired king’s voice had softened, and Yuuri wasn’t entirely certain, but he thought he might have detected a hint of understanding. Just for that moment, it helped him to relax in Viktor’s company. “What about everything else, then?”  
  
Yuuri looked away thoughtfully before something dawned on him and he finally broke into a wide smile. “I’ll have to show you. Meet me down in the ballroom,” he instructed, rising out of his chair almost excitedly. It was such a turnaround that the new energy even seemed to affect Viktor, who jumped up and chased him to the door.  
  
“What is it? Where are we going?” He gasped, pressing his hands over his heart. “Yuuri, are you planning something special for me already? We’ve only just started courting! So sweet. If you’re this eager maybe we really _should_ just get married!” In response, Yuuri slipped out of the room with a less than impressed look thrown over his shoulder, shutting the door directly in Viktor’s face.  
  
From there it was a race. He remembered the way back to his own apartment from Viktor’s well enough now and made good time; it was late and most of the staff were in bed, so he didn’t have any trouble with interested or disapproving looks, and he didn’t round any sharp corners only to bump into someone. All he needed was to change his clothes, leaving his slacks and button down strewn across the floor in his haste. He threw on a pair of sweatpants, a light long-sleeved shirt, and his jacket over top, and fixed his hair a little in the mirror. It looked like his eyeliner had rubbed off a little on one side, but he barely noticed as he left his suite and took the stairs two at a time, running frantically to meet Viktor in the ballroom.  
  
He stopped in the entrance, staring at Viktor as he stood there by the windows again, watching the stars and waiting. It took Yuuri some time to catch his breath, but Viktor noticed his presence before then, turning to smile; he kept that safe distance, allowed Yuuri to come to him, which he did hesitantly. “Uhm… if you’re ready, it’s right out this way,” the dark-haired king told the silver-haired one quietly, motioning to a set of glass doors. He opened one for Viktor, stepping out and closing it behind them before leading him down a set of stone stairs and away from the ballroom on a snow-covered path. Ahead of them was a dark space with what appeared to be a large shed situated at the edge of it. Yuuri kept checking on Viktor, holding his hand to make sure he could navigate through the dark easily--it really was almost like being totally blind for him after being in a place where there was no darkness besides the shadows that the sun cast. He felt Viktor stumble and gripped harder onto his hand. “Are you alright?”  
  
“I’m fine; it’s just dark for me.” Viktor confirmed Yuuri’s suspicion and then hummed thoughtfully. “Where are we going, anyway?”  
  
Yuuri bit his lip, worried it between his teeth just a little, and and ultimately forced a smile. “It’s my favourite place on the palace grounds. You’ll see.”  
  
“Will I?”  
  
The Night King couldn’t help laughing as he led Viktor into the shed and flipped a few light switches, the lights inside the small building illuminating part of a large skating rink with ice that was as black as the sky and dotted with tiny white speckles, meant to mimic stars. Moonlight settled over the places that the warm glow of artificial light couldn’t reach, and gave the whole arena a strangely ethereal atmosphere. He heard his companion’s breath leave him as they examined the arena together, Viktor completely in awe by the sight. “Yuuri…. What is this? It’s amazing!”  
  
“It’s my arena,” Yuuri replied, somewhat relieved that Viktor was impressed as he retreated to pick a pair of black skates from where they hung up on the wall. He sat on a chair provided inside what was clearly a heated viewing area, pulling off his boots and slipping his feet into his skates to lace them tightly. “You asked me what I like to do, and this was the only thing I could think of. I can’t really describe it. I thought if you watched, maybe you would understand.”  
  
Realization dawned rather quickly on Viktor and he turned with wide eyes to stare down at Yuuri, examining him from his impeccably slicked back hair to the silver blades riveted to the bottoms of his boots. His expression was incredulous, excitement brewing so quickly that Yuuri could just about taste it. Of course, Viktor’s surprise wasn’t a big shock to Yuuri; he knew that figure skating was something exclusive to the Night Kingdom, and that most people hailing from the Day Kingdom had never even heard of it. “You’re going to go out there? On those?” He sounded worried, though, and his silver brows knit together over clearly concerned baby blues. “Is that safe?”  
  
“Relatively,” Yuuri responded, shrugging it off easily. His attempts in the past to explain his passion had all gone something like this before. There were precious few who supported his hobby besides Phichit and his parents. If it weren’t for his father’s illness, Yuuri was sure he could have competed, or at least held ice shows so that he could meet other skaters and do the thing he loved the most for everyone to see before he gave up his life as a slave to the crown jewels. He didn’t expect Viktor to get it. Not yet. Not before he saw how beautiful figure skating actually was.  
  
Standing, the young king walked out ahead of Viktor, showing him to a set of stadium bench seats and instructing him to sit after clearing the snow off with a swipe of his arm. He spent some time stretching and explaining to his companion what figure skating actually was, how it had come to be in the Night Kingdom, and then gushed over a few of his inspirations that he’d been lucky enough to see perform when he was young. He told Viktor about his amazing coach, who he’d had to let go when he was informed that he’d be ascending the throne, and replaced the time he used to spend with her with Celestino. His advisor supported his skating _to a point_. It was something that made Yuuri happy, that boosted his confidence and morale, so it couldn’t completely be taken away from him though his time on the ice had been severely minimized.  
  
Viktor listened carefully, stroking his forefinger back and forth in the subtle dip beneath his bottom lip. He stayed studious, watching Yuuri’s features, seeing the way he glowed and radiated positivity the more he gushed. The view itself wasn’t bad either; Yuuri’s body was padded across his stomach, hips, butt, and thighs, with just enough rounding in his cheeks to complete the picture of a soft, palace-bound boy who likely shaped up rather nicely when he was consistently active. It was clear that his hips were a little wider than the average man’s, and his legs were long, his hands expressive and precise. Without knowing that Yuuri’s favourite hobby was dancing on the carefully groomed surface of the ice, it was still obvious that he was built to be a dancer. Viktor appreciated Yuuri’s body silently, continuing to appraise him even as he finished his stretching, removed the guards from his skates, and then turned to Viktor.  
  
Yuuri knew that look right away; he’d been looked at like that before, but never by someone he was actually attracted to. “Ah….” His face flushed and his mouth went dry as realization began to creep up on him regarding what he was about to do. “Uhm… are you ready…?”  
  
“Whenever you are, _miliy_.” Viktor carefully schooled his best smile, and Yuuri could see that there was something so painfully fake about it, just by comparing it to all the other beautiful, genuine smiles he’d seen so far. He tried to dismiss it and smile in return, but his hands were already shaking with the fear that this might be over before it really began. He looked over his shoulder at the ice, scanned the empty seating areas, looked up at the soft light radiating from within the viewing area, and then looked back at Viktor, ready to apologize in advance. Except that Viktor had risen so silently from his seat and was now standing in front of him, hand extended so his fingertips could brush Yuuri’s arm. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Go out and do your best. Be passionate and be confident in your love for skating. I’ll stay right here.”  
  
Yuuri hesitated, looking down to where Viktor touched him so delicately, and then looked back up into the sincere blue of his eyes. “You’ll watch me?”  
  
“I won’t take my eyes off you.”  
  
For some reason, Yuuri felt marginally more at ease hearing these words, and he offered an uncertain but relieved look before finally pulling away. He stepped past the barrier onto the ice like he was made to be there, taking a few lazy laps forward and backward, feeling the ice beneath him as he glided gracefully across the surface like gossamer on a cool night breeze. As he pulled up to a stop at center ice to take an opening position from a program that his coach had choreographed for him when they thought he might still be able to compete, everything went still and silent. The world collectively seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.  
  
Viktor certainly did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The word "nychthemeron" is a real word, I promise. It refers to an entire twenty-four hour period, including one full day and one full night. Viktor was being clever, and I appreciate obscure words, so.
> 
> Hit the kudos button on your way out, even if you don't comment. It makes me feel less like a dork. Also comment because I respond to everything eventually.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their lips touched for just an instant, and when Viktor pulled back, he stayed barely a breath away, his mouth still brushing against the Night King’s. All the confidence and self-assurance that the young royal had built up since leaving the palace with Viktor balled up in his chest then, jumping up to catch in his throat, and he couldn't breathe as his false sense of security was ripped out from under his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two weeks preceding this update have been extremely stressful. I'm behind on writing the fourth chapter; I wanted to already have it written and the first draft edited by now, with the fifth chapter at least in production. I'm going to still try and have the next chapter ready on schedule, but it might be a few days to a week late, just some forewarning.

He felt Viktor's eyes on him, eating him up while he performed beautifully expressive movements, so fluidly transitioning into jumps and spins on the starry surface of the ice beneath him, reflective of the sky overhead, eternally cloaked in blackness. The moon illuminated just enough in a silvery luminescence that Yuuri's pale white skin glowed softly, that the ice shimmered, and that Viktor could make out the Night King's figure as he danced more passionately than he'd ever seen anyone dance before. When he sank into his ending pose, Yuuri finally allowed himself to look-- _really look_ \--at the way Viktor was regarding him, gloved hands pressed together and covering his nose and mouth. The young royal couldn't gauge just from that what the opposing King was thinking; instead he ended up staring just a little too long, dark eyes lingering on the way his silvery hair fell over his crystalline eyes, both laced with starlight. The older man breathed out then, long and heavy as if he hadn't exhaled at all in the preceding five minutes, and straightened himself, his hands falling away from his face as his breath clouded out in front of him.  
  
"Yuuri...." Were those tears in his eyes? "You were amazing. I've never seen anything like that before." The dark-haired king made his way over to the boards, about to step off the ice when Viktor's hand found his wrist, and he looked up into glassy blue eyes, surprised. "Please.... Again."  
  
"Again?" Yuuri could only blink stupidly up at the silver-haired king, bent at the waist and paused, half-way through wiping the ice shavings from one of his blades. "Uhm... I guess I could...." Viktor's hand drew back then, so he could cover his face again, and Yuuri started immediately--those tears from before, barely restrained, were pouring uncontrollably now. He uprighted himself, stood back just a little. Of all the years that Yuuri had been skating, he had never once actually moved a person to tears. The look on his face must have conveyed something besides his sheer terror at having such a profound effect on someone, because Viktor hurriedly began to scrub at his eyes, babbling out apologies. "Look... I have a better idea. Sit down and give me a second. I'll be back."  
  
As instructed, Viktor sank down onto the bench behind him, and Yuuri quickly threw on his skate guards to go inside the small heated viewing area. There was the sound of rummaging and then a long silence; Yuuri returned minutes later with several pairs of skates over his shoulders and a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. He offered one to Viktor who had finally pulled himself together and sniffled out a quiet thanks while Yuuri sat next to him. "Don't you get cold?" he asked finally, seemingly trying to take his mind off whatever had just happened to make him burst into tears like that.  
  
"I do," Yuuri laughed in response, grinning into his cup. With the way the temperature had dropped since they'd left the palace, the thick liquid was already drinkable, and Yuuri took a mouthful; out of the corner of his eye, he watched Viktor tentatively do the same. "But I'm probably more acclimated to it than you are. Even in the summer it stays kind of cool in Midnight.... Something about the wind coming off the ocean, I think. It's one of the coldest places in the Night Kingdom. Why? Are you cold? We can go back inside if you'd like. You'll be here tomorrow for the banquet, so I can skate again then."  
  
Viktor's eyes darted up from his cup, startled by the softness of Yuuri's voice. He bit his lip. "Can you?"  
  
Yuuri nodded in response, burying himself back down in his cup for another warm mouthful of sweet liquid. "Every day that you're here, if that's what you want. Honestly, I'd rather be out here than inside, and as long as it's to build a political relationship, I'm sure my advisor won't mind. I'd actually like to abuse the opportunity if I can."  
  
Viktor was silent for a long moment, simply staring at Yuuri with a wide-eyed expression on his face that eventually softened into a fond smile. "Then I wish I could stay here forever."  
  
The two finished their drinks together, set the cups aside as Yuuri carefully lowered himself down into a kneeling position in front of the older king. He glanced up, feeling his face flush as he slowly removed Viktor's boot, placing the Day King’s sole on his knee while he unlaced the first skate, then guided the foreigner’s foot inside, toes first. He ended up having to pull away--the boot was both too short and too narrow. He tried the second pair, finding that it fit everywhere but in the ankle, where he would need the most support. From there, Yuuri hesitated, deciding to skip over the other two pairs he'd brought and go straight for the ones carefully bagged away and pushed off to the side--he'd brought them out just in case, but now he had a feeling that nothing else could possibly be good enough. He unzipped the bag slowly, revealing two pristine black skates, the blades a striking golden in contrast to the steel grey of the other blades and the black of the ice. Yuuri heard Viktor draw in a long, audible breath and smiled ruefully.  
  
He slipped one of Viktor's feet inside. "These are mine," he explained, pressing at the bottom of the boot to make sure that the older man's foot was all the way in. "They were made for my sixteenth birthday in hopes that I'd grow into them by the time I took over the throne." He began to lace it with care, taking his time to make sure that it was tight enough to support Viktor's ankle without cutting off circulation before he moved onto the next one. He could feel Viktor's eyes weighing down on him from above. "That never happened, and as it turns out, I haven't grown into the throne either, so.... I guess it's just fate. They fit you perfectly though. How do you feel?"  
  
"Excited," Viktor returned, turning his eyes down on his skate-adorned feet. "And nervous. But Yuuri, you're only twenty-three. You haven't had enough time on the throne to tell whether or not you'll be a good king. You're insecure, right?" Yuuri sat back, practically dropping the foot he'd been working on as he scrambled for some way to pull his barrier back up around himself. "Don't worry. My parents were killed when I was twelve, and I've been the Crowned King since then--I had a regent until I could be properly inaugurated as an adult, but there was still a lot of pressure, specifically in my teenage years, to blossom into something that the whole kingdom had been waiting for. I understand how you feel, likely more than anyone else does. To have all this thrust upon you before you were ready, people expecting so much from you and you not knowing whether you can please them or not...." He reached out, tips of his gloved fingers ghosting over Yuuri's cheekbone, across his jaw and dipping under his chin to tilt  his head up. "Give it time. I’ve done alright. And so will you."  
  
"Viktor.... Thank you." Because those were honestly the words that he'd needed to hear all this time, coming from someone who was supposed to be his sworn enemy, especially now with the speculation on the Day King’s plans.  
  
"Or you could marry me to unite the kingdoms, and you wouldn't have to make any decisions at all! Sounds good right?" Yuuri choked, shot up and away at Viktor's cheery tone--when had he started leaning into Viktor's touch, anyway? He nearly tripped over himself, managing just in time to find the edge of the boards to keep himself upright. So Viktor hadn’t give up on that yet. "Yuuri, is something wrong?" It didn't make it any better that Viktor was blinking at him innocently as if he actually didn’t know what he’d done.  
  
"Maybe we should just... skate... for now, and talk about that later?" His voice shook, and without much thought he turned to dart away onto the ice, looking back only when he realized that this would be Viktor's first time on skates. The older man wobbled to his feet, taking uncertain steps toward the rink and hugging the wall as he put his first foot down onto the smooth, starry surface of the ice. He whined, seemingly stuck as his feet slid out from under him in two different directions. Yuuri admired his bravery to even make it that far on his own.  
  
" _Yuuuri_!" Viktor looked up over his shoulder where he'd draped himself over the wall, face painted in such a helpless expression as he gathered his feet back up that Yuuri couldn't keep himself from laughing as he made his way over. Just for now, he could forget talk of marriage, forget that Viktor was his natural enemy.  
  
The younger male reached out, peeled Viktor's hands from the boards one at a time as he managed to get his legs back underneath him, and helped him to slide forward, clinging hard to Yuuri for support. "Alright, you've got it. See? Straighten up now," he urged, pulling Viktor into more of an upright position.  
  
The King wobbled dramatically, his whole body braced, releasing his death grip on Yuuri to shoot his arms out to the sides for stability. Finally, he stopped flailing and looked up from the ice at the dark-haired King with bright eyes, proud to have found some semblance of balance. Yuuri nodded his approval. "Good. Now just... skate. Look, it's just like walking, but on ice. Use the edge of the blade to push off--" Viktor's attempt was shoddy at best, stiff and disorganized as his arms waved back and forth and he instinctively bent forward in attempt to stay balanced.  
  
"Amazing! You're doing great! But try to relax a little, keep a little bend in your knee, and don't brace so much. Just remember to try and center your weight back a little more on the blade because it'll encourage you to stay more upright. Oh, and watch out for the--" Just as he was saying it, just as Viktor was picking up some speed and gaining confidence, the inevitable happened. The pick caught and the Day King fell forward, hitting the ice with an audible thump. "...toe pick.... Sorry, I should have warned you sooner." Viktor lay there for a moment, sprawled across the surface of the ice on his stomach, blinking dumbly before he pushed himself up and pouted. Yuuri covered his mouth in order to stifle his laughter, and offered Viktor a hand up.  
  
"Yuuri just likes seeing me suffer," he whined petulantly, and Yuuri laughed so hard that he couldn't manage to close his fingers around Viktor's wrist, effectively dropping him back on the ice as he doubled over. " _Yuuuri_! You're so mean to me!"

 

* * *

 

Yuuri honestly had no idea how long they skated for. By the time they were ready to stop, they were both soaked with sweat and melted ice shavings, mostly from Viktor falling and taking Yuuri with him, but also where Yuuri did his best to show off some of his jumps and ended up falling out of them instead. Not all of them--just enough to make Viktor feel better about himself. In the end, when they finally managed to drag themselves off the ice, Viktor had been able to learn to skate proficiently both forward and backward, even attempting some single jumps when he felt safe enough. All he'd needed was a boost of confidence, and it turned out that he was actually quite a natural.  
  
They shed their skates slowly, reviewing the past hour or so and laughing at each other's spills, both with cheeks painted bright red from the cold, and both shivering as their dampened clothing began to cool in the frigid night air. Yuuri replaced their skates in the seating area, returning to find Viktor stumbling uncertainly, though his face was lit up, and he was grinning from ear to ear. "It feels strange walking again," he mused, and Yuuri couldn't help but smile. Honestly, for a man of nearly twenty-seven, who was four years his senior... Viktor was... _cute_. As the Night King came up to the Day King’s side, he grasped for the older man’s hand again, the desire to keep him balanced almost an instinct by this point. Viktor leaned in close, bumped their shoulders. "Yuuri, when we get back inside, I want to return the favour and show you something that I enjoy. Is that okay?"  
  
"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" The dark-haired man tilted his head with that sweet little smile, and apparently to Viktor that was an invitation. He moved in, pressed his body closer to Yuuri's with his hands moving to grip loosely at his arms. Their lips touched for just an instant, and when Viktor pulled back, he stayed barely a breath away, his mouth still brushing against the Night King’s. All the confidence and self-assurance that the young royal had built up since leaving the palace with Viktor balled up in his chest then, jumping up to catch in his throat, and he couldn't breathe as his false sense of security was ripped out from under his feet. His eyes were blown wide, staring at Viktor in some kind of shock, his mouth open soundlessly.  
  
The silverette moved in again, tilted his head so their noses didn't brush, and kissed Yuuri much more deeply; his hands slipped down to Yuuri's elbows, guided the Night King’s arms up around his neck where they locked almost automatically--the roles had reversed and now _he_ needed something stable to hold himself up. Viktor held Yuuri close, worked the younger royal’s mouth with his own in attempt to coax it into dancing along, and gradually, the stiff body held against him became more and more pliable. The Night King let out a barely audible whimper as he slowly ceded to the heat of the embrace, allowed his eyes to slide shut, trying so hard to mimic Viktor's movements though he was reluctant to press back or move his body too close. The overall effect was extremely awkward, and eventually the silver-haired King broke away to laugh while Yuuri covered his face in shame. "It was bad, wasn't it? I'm horrible at this. I'm sorry; I must be such a disappointment."  
  
Viktor pulled back his laughter quickly, bit his lip as he swallowed it down, bending to try and see the younger male's face. "Yuuri, it wasn't bad. Why would you think that?" Yuuri just turned away, leaving Viktor to pout at his back and watch as his slightly rounded frame trembled with what he could only assume was more than just the cold curling in around them. "Yuuri...."  
  
The younger huffed out shakily, his breath clouding heavily in front of him. "You've been teasing me all night with your stupid marriage proposals. What else am I supposed to think when you're laughing at me like that?" He held himself as tightly as he could to keep from falling apart right there. Still, he couldn't help feeling vulnerable and exposed, and the heady flavour of Viktor's mouth in his own wasn't helping any at all. “I’ve never been kissed before. I _know_ it was horrible; you don’t have to rub it in by laughing at me.”  
  
"Yuuri, I don't think you're a disappointment. You're inexperienced and... if I'm intimidating you, I want you to tell me." There was a hand on Yuuri's back then, rubbing across his shoulders, then down his spine and around his waist as Viktor cemented himself to Yuuri's body. "Please don't cry, Yuuri. I've never been good at handling other people's emotions, and I don't know what I would do if I'd hurt you in some way. That's not what I wanted." Yuuri choked then, tried to swallow a sob, and Viktor squeezed him tighter. "Please. I'll kiss you again if it'll help. Anything." Yuuri did quiet reluctantly, wiped his eyes with an already wet hand, chilled and red and shaking. He sniffled, and one of Viktor's hands rose to take his, squeezing gently. "We're both freezing. Let's call it a day and go back inside."  
  
Yuuri didn't miss the expression he'd used-- _call it a day-_ -and though it made his stomach roll with uncertainty, he followed as Viktor led him up the snow-covered path to the French doors that they'd escaped from. At some point, Yuuri managed to calm himself, think everything through, remember his goal, and strengthened his resolve as best he could. Not much. Just enough. They snuck through the halls and up the marble staircase, Yuuri taking the lead to show Viktor to his apartment suite rather than walking him back to his own set of rooms. Viktor didn’t say anything, but Yuuri could almost feel the confusion when they turned off at the top of the stairs toward the west wing of the palace.  
  
"I'll call the maid up to take our clothes in the morning," he explained, keeping a few steps ahead of Viktor though they were still connected through laced fingers. "They should already have the fire going, and if you'd like I can run you a hot bath. If _I'm_ cold, I can't imagine how you must feel."  
  
He couldn't bring himself to turn and look at Viktor to gauge his reaction. There was something of a fear of what he might see there, and even more of a fear of what he knew he was about to do. He wasn't that naive. Yuuri was an adult, and for whatever reason, Viktor had expressed interest in him--interest that he wanted to believe ran deeper than his title and the kingdom he ruled. If he wanted to keep his kingdom safe, then…. The younger King swallowed thickly, chewed at his bottom lip as the nerves crept up on him again. He'd never been with anyone before, and he was scared that he wouldn't be good enough, that Viktor would laugh at him again, that he'd be bored by Yuuri's lack of confidence and experience… and he couldn’t say why he cared so much, either. Not only had he and Viktor just met, but Viktor was also his enemy, right?  
  
He just had to keep reminding himself, he needed to do what was necessary to protect his kingdom.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Viktor remarked as Yuuri let him into the apartment, into a small sitting room with midnight blue walls patterned with translucent white roses, almost as if they were made of glass. There was a loveseat and an armchair in front of a small hearth,  and curtains covering a large bay window; the upholstery was all a deep rich red, accented in gold. There was a vase of flowers on a table in the corner, and decoration was sparse otherwise. Over the fire, there was a massive portrait of a man on horseback, reared up on its hind legs with his sword drawn as war churned around them.  
  
Yuuri followed Viktor’s gaze up to the painting and he took a deep breath. “Oh. Yeah, it’s alright, I guess.” He felt the older royal’s fingers squeeze at his own and he squeezed back, tugging toward a set of double doors at the back of the room to urge the silverette on. He was convinced that Viktor wanted him, and he was determined to go through with it if it would make him seem more attractive; but if they didn’t move quickly, Yuuri was going to lose his nerve.  
  
“So are you,” came the Day King’s voice, low and soft, and Yuuri froze in his tracks. “Beautiful, I mean. _So_ beautiful.” Viktor was moving in again, taking advantage of the younger king’s stunned state, and kissed his mouth softly. In the privacy of his suite, Yuuri melted much more easily, nearly liquefying as he basked in Viktor’s words. He thought Yuuri was beautiful. No one had ever said it to him before. Not like that.  
  
As soon as the doors to his bedroom were closed on their backs, Yuuri drew in a deep breath, surprising himself when he rounded on the Day King, pressing their bodies close until Viktor was against the wall. There was a sharp inhale--Yuuri’s or Viktor’s?--and a pair of uncertain hands found the younger royal’s waist. “Yuuri--” He didn’t give Viktor a chance to say anything before he was pulling the silver-haired man in by the back of his neck, initiating the kiss and hoping against hope that it would go better this time. It still felt awkward, but Viktor didn’t pull away; he allowed Yuuri to lead, following along with soft flicks of his tongue against the younger male’s mouth. Yuuri felt watery already, melting under the warmth of Viktor’s hands on his body, moving up his sides, across his back, then down past his hips and over his ass. It had the dark-haired male hissing as sparks followed the touch like the tail of a comet; his hands fisted in Viktor’s jacket, partially looking for something to keep him grounded while simultaneously pulling to try and get it off.  
  
Without much of an effort and without breaking the kiss, Viktor’s jacket hit the floor at his feet, followed by Yuuri’s. Something began to bubble up inside of the young royal now--a sort of heat that he’d never felt before--he went for the Day King’s waistcoat next, pulling at the buttons insistently until they’d each popped free, and the waistcoat joined their jackets on the floor. “Yuuri--” Before he knew it, his hands were on Viktor’s chest, trembling as they went for the tiny buttons on his shirt; he made it all the way down and was struggling with Viktor’s belt before the silver-haired king’s hands engulfed his with softly radiating warmth. “ _Yuuri._ ” Finally he looked up, cinnamon meeting sapphire, and held his breath. He’d fucked up.  
  
“Sorry. I’ve never--”  
  
Viktor frowned. “I don’t know where you got the idea that we need to do this, but you’re wrong. I thought you wanted to take it slow.” His voice was soft, caring, supportive. Not angry--just concerned. And that showed in his eyes, the way he tilted his head so that his fringe slipped off to the side and made his left eye just a little more visible. Yuuri wanted to believe him. “What’s gotten into you?”  
  
He wet his lips uncertainly, dropped his gaze to his hands, noticed the way Viktor’s pants peaked out in the front with the beginning of arousal. Wasn’t this the part where Yuuri would run and hide out of sheer humiliation? No. Ordinarily, Yuuri never would have put himself into this position; he would have feared this kind of attention and left Viktor alone for the evening, avoided him at the banquet the following evening, sequestered himself like he’d been contaminated with something infectious. None of this was him; this was the Night King taking over him, the man that he was expected to be rather than the one he was in reality. The Night King needed to protect what belonged to him at all costs. The Night King needed to finish this, seduce the Day King, turn the arrangement of marriage in his own favour. “I want it,” he stated, forcing the shake out of his voice against all odds. “I need it.”  
  
With that, he swiped Viktor’s hands away, continuing to unbuckle his belt so he could get at the fastenings at the front of the silverette’s pants. And then…. Then, he supposed… it would be like touching himself, wouldn’t it…? He hadn’t thought this all the way through. It was one thing to tell himself he was going to use his body to seduce the Day Kingdom’s ruler and turn the tables on his little plan, but it was entirely another to be in the heat of the moment without a clue what he was actually doing.  
  
His face flushed bright red and he could feel Viktor’s eyes on him, almost laughing, but with enough sense to hold back this time. “What is it that you need, exactly?” he teased, shrugging his damp shirt off and pulling Yuuri’s hands away from his pants. Yuuri couldn’t respond; he just let his mouth flap open and closed uselessly like a fish out of water, and this time Viktor did chuckle. The sound was as warm and gentle as his hands, and Yuuri shut his mouth before more stupid could fall out. “If you’re so determined, why don’t you let me lead? You said you’ve never done this. I’ll show you.”  
  
And there was no way that Yuuri could actually disagree with him. Partially because he didn’t have a chance--as soon as Viktor had said this, he was leading the younger king to his bed, pushing him down to sit at the edge, watching as his senior went to work on removing his clothes for him. But also because there was a tiny part of him that didn’t mind not being the one dictating everything that happened. He wasn’t cut out for leading. As much as he wanted to be right now, he wasn’t the Yuuri from the painting in the hall, all smouldering expressions, confident with his head held high, _seductive_.  
  
His shirt left his body, peeled off over his head and thrown to the side while Viktor’s lips met the elegant curve of his neck, peppered kisses along his shoulder and collarbone, pressed into his chest, breathed over his abdomen. His pants were slowly pulled down over his hips, and Viktor purred, “Yuuri, you’re stiff. Try and relax a little bit. It’ll feel much better.” He hadn’t realized how tense his body had been up until Viktor had pointed out. Most of it was because he was cold, but there was also a rather large part of him that did not at all like the fact that he was mostly naked in front of his enemy. He felt ashamed.  He wanted to cover himself, shield the softness of his body from Viktor’s eyes, and his hands moved subconsciously to do just that. Viktor seized them, held them gently, pressed them against his cheeks to warm them. “Are you sure this is really what you want?”  
  
Yuuri’s nod was hesitant, his eyes cast to the side so he didn’t have to see Viktor’s expression. Was he angry? Disappointed? Or was he thinking of the best way to make Yuuri submit, force him into something that was feeling more and more frightening the longer they took with it? Viktor walked away, threw open Yuuri’s closet to select a light sweater out of it. Of course he laughed lightly at Yuuri’s questioning gaze, but he was smiling and that was all that mattered.  
  
Yuuri accepted the garment as it was handed to him. “What’s this for?”   
  
“To keep you warm,” was the gentle reply, and Viktor knelt by the bed as Yuuri wiggled himself into the sweater, resting his head on the younger king’s knee and gazing up at him lovingly. Yuuri relaxed now that he was marginally less exposed. “Tell me then, Yuuri. If you’re nervous, what exactly is it that makes you feel that way? We can continue if you’re adamant, but I want to stay within your limits.”  
  
“Yet you’ll propose to me three times in one night with no regard for my feelings,” Yuuri deadpanned, and the older king blinked up at him. He felt his face starting to flush and he waited for some kind of backlash. There was none. Viktor was still patiently waiting for the answer to his question, so Yuuri swallowed down all the anxiety for the millionth time that night just so he could think clearly. “I don’t know. I’ve never done this at all, so… I really don’t know what to expect.” He wasn’t about to admit that he had gotten himself off on a few occasions when it was absolutely necessary, when he found himself with an inconveniently timed erection that refused to abate. He knew how sex worked, and he knew how rewarding it was to let himself fall over that edge into an abyss of pleasure. But he had never had to coordinate with another person, never had their scrutinizing gaze on his body, never had to bare himself and trust that they would take care of him.  
  
Viktor hummed to himself, kissing Yuuri’s knee as he seemed to come up with an idea almost instantly. “We’ll start with something basic, and if you feel uncomfortable, you can ask to stop at any time.” The Night King wondered if his senior wasn’t just saying this to lull him into a false sense of security, though when he looked down into the older man’s eyes he could see nothing but sincerity. A splash of kisses were peppered into his thigh, climbing higher and higher, and every now and then, Viktor looked back up, waiting for Yuuri’s consent. He finally realized it when the Day King began to pull away with a worried expression, like he’d done something very wrong.  
  
“No, wait-- It’s… I….” Yuuri fought with himself over the wording he wanted to use, worrying his lip between his teeth until he swore he could taste blood. It was quickly replaced with the taste of Viktor’s mouth, the warmth of his lips on Yuuri’s as he kissed him, and Yuuri returned the gesture uncertainly. “I’m sorry; this must be so frustrating. I’m okay, really.” There was a pause where Viktor’s mouth stopped moving along his jawline and he breathed a sigh out through his nose; Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was relief or exasperation.  
  
“Tell me the exact second you feel uncomfortable,” the older man urged, and Yuuri found himself nodding again as he was pushed to lay on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed with wide eyes. The heat of Viktor’s body slipped down. Hands engulfed the flesh of his hips, thumbs pressing into the softness of his stomach. There was heat pooling where ever Viktor’s mouth went. Just then, it was leaving fluttering tingles across his right hip, descending, and before long, it was engulfing his entire length though Viktor had only run his tongue from the base to the head, testing the water.   
  
Yuuri’s breath hitched in his throat, caught and tangled, winding a little tighter with every slow draw of Viktor’s tongue on his cock. He was paralyzed, hands fisted in the sheets on his bed. A quiet whine squeezed its way out of his throat, but Viktor didn’t stop. Before long, his breath left him altogether as the silverette’s mouth slid down over his whole length, the rough flat of his tongue pressed against the hardness of Yuuri’s shaft. He suddenly felt too hot, felt his own fingers slipping under the hem of his sweater to follow a trail of need that pooled somehow so certainly along his collarbone and just under his nipples; and as embarrassed as he felt, he was compelled to touch himself, drawing out the addictive rushes of sparks like fireworks showering electric blue over his skin.  
  
He felt… _amazing_.  
  
Before this, only the ice had ever made him feel so beautiful.  
  
There was a tightening in the pit of his stomach, a twisting and coiling like a spring ready to release inside him, and he knew he was close already. The words wouldn’t form to warn the Day King below him, so Viktor continued to bob his head, sucking at the salty precum that Yuuri could feel leaking out of him with every throb of his cock. He could only think that somehow he had conveyed the message as Viktor gradually became more insistent, chasing Yuuri’s orgasm just as much as Yuuri was himself. There was a hand pushing the younger man’s thighs a little further apart, fingers tracing over his scrotum, down to his perineum, venturing lower, circling his hole, pressing at the rim, and--  
  
Something in Yuuri snapped. He gasped, sitting up and grabbing for Viktor’s hair without thinking. “Stop! Not yet-- Just stop-- Please.” Viktor had long pulled off, even before Yuuri had managed to grab for him, and was already climbing onto the bed to pull the Night King to him as some form of comfort. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just can’t--”  
  
“Stop that,” Viktor chastised, the frown so evident in his voice that Yuuri could hear it, certain as there were stars in the sky. He let out a choked off sob, feeling a pang of guilt in his heart, hearing a voice in his head tell him he’d messed up, he was just a disappointment. “I told you we could stop if you were uncomfortable. You did exactly like I told you, and you should never, ever be sorry for that.”   
  
Yuuri thought the phrasing of that statement was a little strange, but he didn’t say anything. Rather, he felt more compelled to stay close to Viktor, let himself feel fulfilled by having the Day King near him like this. He indulged in the warmth, radiating like soft sunlight over his skin, making him feel so relaxed and comforted. He couldn’t say exactly when his mind had changed; he knew who Viktor was and he had a good idea of what Viktor wanted out of him, but there was this tiny little part of him that wanted to like Viktor, that felt safe with him.   
  
Accepting his proposal didn’t seem too entirely unfathomable.  
  
When he imagined his life married to Viktor, he could only foresee being loved to the fullest, cared for and happy. They could live in the Day Kingdom to the south in the winter, and in the Night Kingdom to the north in the summer. Yuuri could skate and Viktor could rule. And they’d have a family. Yuuri imagined their oldest son, just as flawlessly beautiful as his father, but with Yuuri’s dark hair; after that, a daughter, with Yuuri’s softly rounded cheeks and big brown eyes, and lengths of her father’s beautiful silver hair. They wouldn’t be the only two, either. They’d have tons of them. Maybe five or six. And not one of them would be forced into Yuuri’s position. If their eldest didn’t want to be Viktor’s heir, then surely one of his brothers or sisters would. And if not…. Well, they could always screw the monarchy and implement a democracy instead. Then _no one_ would have to do anything they didn’t want to do.  
  
At some point, these thoughts became visions, which turned into dreams; before he knew it, Yuuri had been lulled to sleep by Viktor’s body heat, and for the rest of the night, slept peacefully with his head on the Day King’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think. Fic-writing is thankless and comments fuel my motivation to continue.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just knew he wanted to, and he could. No one could tell him not to. And he realized that, despite his status as a King, there were a lot of people telling him what he could and could not do. The structure had always felt comfortable to him, knowing that he never had to make his own decisions and therefore had no consequences for his actions. Being able to choose for himself whether or not to be with Viktor… that felt… surprisingly good, even if one wrong move could spell disaster for his kingdom. He could deal with that later, though.
> 
> For now… he wanted Viktor, and he wanted that powerful feeling. All he had to do was make them both his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for my super long hiatus! Lots of stuff kind of all came up at once from moving to some interesting encounters with some interesting people. I started riding lessons again and have ended up modding for a blog I really love, so most of it has been great, but I've been left with very little time to actually write. Which means that the last little bit hasn't been edited because I just wanted to get this finished and posted for anyone who's still with me on this. It's a bit shorter than the other chapters, but I felt like the amount of content made up for it, so hopefully everyone will enjoy!

When Yuuri awoke, it was to Viktor petting his hair and staring down at him lovingly, like he was the only thing in the world. It had the young royal understandably flustered, but that didn’t mean he was entirely ready for Phichit to barge in and shoo Viktor out, acting more offended than scandalized—maybe even a little angry, Yuuri noted quietly. Jealous? He didn’t say anything out loud, voice his concerns or his preference to have Viktor stay with him in bed, at least until the end of eternity. He just offered a rueful smile and wave as the door was slammed on the Day King’s nose, shutting him out in Yuuri’s apartment.  
  
He had to admit, though, it was a little worth it just to see the shocked look on the Day King’s face as he was fairly thrown out by a man half his size.  
  
And as soon as that was done, Phichit rounded on Yuuri, who was trying to discreetly slip out from under the cover of his comforter to find his pants. “What the Hell.” Yuuri froze, staring doe-eyed at Phichit, who had his arms crossed over his chest, pointedly staring at the Night King’s bare leg as it was retracted back under the blanket. “I mean, it’s none of my business, Yuuri, but _what the Hell_.”  
  
“I’m sorry. It was stupid, I know,” Yuuri responded almost bitterly, unsure of what it was he was actually apologizing for. He didn’t need to explain himself. He knew what he was doing… kind of. Mostly. Not really at all, but he was doing his best and who could really fault him for that? Phichit had no idea what kind of pressure he was under and how that affected him. Sometimes it was just better to try and do things the peaceful way rather than throwing a perfectly good guy out of the room half-naked and telling them to “ _get out of my life_ ”.  
  
Phichit just sighed, waving Yuuri off to start running him a bath, and when he returned it was with a slightly more relaxed expression. He sighed again, bringing a thick terrycloth robe and a pair of slippers so that Yuuri could maintain some of his modesty and protect his feet from the cold of the floor as the unseasonable frigidness slithered in from outside. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” While Yuuri slipped into his robe, his valet knelt by the fireplace to start building up kindling over the last surviving coal, gradually sparking a new fire to life.  
  
“No. We didn’t really do anything. Just kissed a bit, and some other stuff, but I panicked and he stopped, and….” Now that he thought about it, he felt like such a disappointment; he’d completely left Viktor hanging, hadn’t even offered to try helping him. Just because it was over for Yuuri didn’t mean Viktor had to suffer too.  
  
“And?” Phichit peeked up over his shoulder, looking more concerned than he should have.  
  
Yuuri just shrugged, “And nothing. Nothing happened.” He stayed quiet, sitting at the edge of his bed as the room slowly began to warm, and eventually Phichit joined him. Yuuri leaned over, resting his head on his valet’s shoulder with the stupidest little smile on his face. “I think this could work. He’s not the kind of person we thought he was at all. He’s so thoughtful and kind, and he listens to me. He said I’m beautiful, and…. Phichit, he likes skating--”  
  
“What, hold on.” Phichit sat up abruptly, dislodging Yuuri and prompting the young king to pout up at him. “You took him skating? _Yuuri_ , I thought you said nothing happened!” Immediately, Yuuri was on the defensive, inhaling to refute, but Phichit just held his hand up and shook his head. “I already know, Yuuri. You and _just skating_ don’t go together, so don’t even try it.” There was no possible way for Yuuri to argue that--the ice was something he was so passionate about, and showing Viktor his rink had been like baring a little piece of his soul to him. He decided not to mention that he’d put his own personal treasures on the Day King’s feet, laced them himself, and that Viktor actually had the makings to be a fairly decent skater. He wouldn’t have had the chance, anyway. Phichit was already speaking again. “You’ve literally known him less than twelve hours. I don’t care what you think you see in him; that guy’s a fucking doughnut. I just don’t want to see him hurt you.”  
  
As Phichit got up to leave, Yuuri closed his mouth, wet his lips slowly and thoughtfully. There was so much he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t seem to get the words out. Something felt so wrong about letting his best friend walk away like this. He didn’t know what else to do. Phichit’s mind was made up, and he was dead set on hating Viktor; it was troubling for Yuuri, feeling torn between wanting to do right by the person in his life who he felt he could share anything with, baring his soul even when he was terrified to speak up to anyone else, and his attraction to a man who could honestly make or break the Night Kingdom’s future. In any other circumstance, the choice would be obvious, but in this case, it wasn’t so clear cut as _bros before hoes_ , as Phichit would have so eloquently put it. It was a conundrum that made Yuuri’s stomach twist painfully.  
  
He didn’t want to have to deal with it. This was exactly the sort of thing he stayed in his room to hide from.

 

* * *

  
The rest of the morning went by without incident. Yuuri stayed in the bath until the water was cold, scrubbing the makeup from his face, the dried sweat from his skin and hair. It left him too much time to think about the night before, about how good Viktor felt on his body, about how close he’d been to erupting into the older king’s mouth and down his throat. From there, it was all fantasy. What would have happened if the idea of being penetrated hadn’t sent him into unnecessary panic? What would it feel like to have something inside him? What was it really that he was afraid of?  
  
The visions in his head, the memory of heated pleasure still residual in his nerves had Yuuri gripping himself, tipping his head back to rest on the edge of the tub with a soft breath. Slowly, he stroked his length, feeling it grow and harden, aching as he imagined Viktor’s firm grasp instead, touching him in all the places he liked the most. He pressed at the tip, followed the slit down and around the corona, massaging the glans delicately, feeling Viktor’s tongue rather than the pads of his own fingers. The images were vivid enough, and before he knew it, heat was pooling suggestively in his groin, cock aching in his hand as he followed the vein along the underside to the base, encircling it with his thumb, middle, and index fingers, hissing as the tight ring of pressure drew sparks to the surface of his skin.  
  
At first, his left hand dragged up along his body to play with his nipples, pinching and rolling them until they hardened under his ministrations. And then, slowly, timidly, it made its way down, automatically following the same path Viktor had blazed before taking Yuuri’s cock deep into his mouth. Except he didn’t stop there. He kept going, tipping his hips up to make it easier to find his entrance, and felt over the tight pucker of muscle; hesitantly, with every pass-over, he pressed just a little harder, psyching himself up for what was to come. There was no reason to be afraid of this, right? Especially not with Viktor. Viktor would take care of him.  
  
With a deep breath and his eyes screwed shut, he pushed against the resistance of his muscles, wrinkling his nose at the discomfort that ached through his lower half. Why anyone would want to sit through this was beyond him; it wasn’t exactly painful, but it didn’t feel good either, and he highly suspected that it wouldn’t for a long time. Finally, he exhaled, pressed his finger just a little further inside as he felt the muscle give around it, and followed the walls until he brushed over what he could immediately identify as his prostate from the way his body jolted as if it had been shocked, except that in the wake of heat surging through his body, all he felt was intense pleasure.  
  
Before he could stop it, a sweet sound was leaving his lips; normally, Yuuri would have been embarrassed, almost to the point of complete humiliation even without any witnesses, but with the way he drew his finger out and thrust it back in against that overly sensitive bundle of nerves, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It didn’t take long before a demanding chorus in his head ordered _more_ , his body wanting to be filled. The second finger _hurt_ , but Yuuri breathed through it, stretching himself open, pressed into that spot to marry the pain and the pleasure, turning the bright sting into something that had him coming all the way undone, practically singing his moans as he brought himself to climax with Viktor’s name on his lips.  
  
By the time he’d finished and carefully worked his fingers out from inside himself as his walls pulsed with aftershock, the water was cold, and Yuuri was no cleaner than he’d been when he slipped in over an hour prior. He pulled the plug, sat and waited for the water to empty, and then refilled it with fresh water so he could clean himself properly, this time without getting distracted by images of Viktor bouncing around inside his head. He took his time drying his body, brushing his hair and teeth, and staring at himself in the full-length mirror to take in every inch of extra body fat and every stretch mark, whether it was red and itchy or opalescent against the pale white of his skin. He couldn’t find it in himself to like _anything_ that he saw, and wondered idly how Viktor could possibly want to marry someone like him. Eventually he managed to tear his eyes away from what was practically the mutilation of a perfectly lovely body and left the bathroom to dress himself.  
  
There were still several hours left before guests began to arrive, and Yuuri was certain there was something responsible he could be doing--paperwork perhaps--but instead, he gathered his jacket and ventured onto the balcony to look over the ocean, sighing out heavily clouded puffs of breath. From here, he could almost see the rink over the top of the ballroom, the frost and snow accumulated on the top of the glass roof obscuring everything beyond it. His mind was filled with the desire to be out on the ice again, collecting his confidence through his skating; of course he would invite Viktor. He’d said they could skate again, and he didn’t want to go back on that, though… if Viktor still wanted anything to do with him after his horrible performance the night before, he would be surprised.  
  
All those things he’d said… those were just niceties, probably. Things Viktor was saying to curry his favour, convince Yuuri to marry him. And what the Hell was _that_ about, anyway? The Night King couldn’t figure it out for the life of him. They’d known each other maybe half an hour before the proposal was sprung on him so suddenly, and Yuuri was right to be hesitant. But then somehow, the silver-haired king had wound up sleeping over in his bed, and now that he was thinking about it, Yuuri had absolutely zero understanding of how it had happened.  
  
He just knew he _wanted_ to, and he _could_. No one could tell him not to. And he realized that, despite his status as a King, there were a lot of people telling him what he could and could not do. The structure had always felt comfortable to him, knowing that he never had to make his own decisions and therefore had no consequences for his actions. Being able to choose for himself whether or not to be with Viktor… that felt… surprisingly _good,_ even if one wrong move could spell disaster for his kingdom. He could deal with that later, though.  
  
For now… he _wanted_ Viktor, and he _wanted_ that powerful feeling. All he had to do was make them both his.

 

* * *

  
Easier said than done.  
  
The entire ballroom collectively silenced as Yuuri stood at the top step, looking doe-eyed out over the crowd into a sea of colour and light reflecting off rhinestones and sequins. All eyes were on him as he was presented as _His Royal Majesty, Yuuri Katsuki_ , _King of Night_. He hated it. It sounded wrong in his ears, and he knew that the guests knew it too, just from the way they stared at him. Or… he thought so, anyway. He couldn’t really tell without his glasses on. Shaking, he announced that dinner would be served in the dining room presently, hardly loud enough for guests near the middle and back of the ballroom to hear him, but when he turned and scuttled away to take his seat at the head of the table, the crowd followed him anyway. The only relief was that it was Viktor’s name scrawled in silver on a black place card to his right and not anyone else--especially Chris, who Yuuri was certain he saw taking a seat somewhere around the middle of the table.  
  
Eventually, Viktor seated himself at Yuuri’s side, cool and collected with that eerily fake smile on his lips as he turned to talk with other guests. The Night King could see it in the way his eyes stayed cold, much more obvious now that his bangs were brushed to the side to show off his whole face. It was like he’d put on a mask, become the Day King, and all traces of the Viktor that Yuuri had talked and laughed with, who had comforted him when he was at his most vulnerable, who had cuddled Yuuri to sleep, were gone. Yuuri envied him for his ability to turn it on when he wanted, become the charming, intelligent, charismatic king that he was expected to be, with his head held high and a regal tone to his voice.  
  
In contrast, Yuuri shrank down in his seat to avoid confrontation, glancing down the row of diners as appetizers were served to women first, and then men, both in order of social status. There were actually several that he knew, including Guang Hong Ji, a shy prince from the Constellations overseas to the west, who had recently made his societal debut, and Seung Gil Lee, head of the Council of Moon Phases, who would inherit the throne if Yuuri was found unfit to rule, despite the fact that he was younger than Yuuri by three years. He wondered if Seung Gil’s being invited was less political and more to remind Yuuri that he needed to step up or risk losing everything his family had build up for generations—that did seem like the kind of thing Celestino would do, and if that was the intention, it certainly wasn’t having the intended effect. Instead, seeing people here much younger than himself who seemed to have it all together….  
  
Mouth set in a firm line, Yuuri found himself staring at Viktor, wondering what exactly his purpose for being there was. Everyone in this room was apparently someone who could aid Yuuri in continuing to build the Night Kingdom through trade, pacts, treaties, or services from both sides of The Horizon. And then there was Viktor. He was powerful and highly influential, and Yuuri wondered if part of inviting him was about showing him what a King was truly supposed to look and act like. If that was the angle, then maybe it was working. Yuuri wanted so badly to be more like Viktor, but the longer he sat in his presence, listened to him engage with other nobility, the more he realized that he just wasn’t cut out for this.  
  
“Yuuri?”  
  
Viktor’s voice had him nearly jumping out of his skin, and he looked up from the plate of food in front of him to a table of expectant gazes. They were waiting for him to take the first bite, and Yuuri felt sick to his stomach. If he could have gotten out of eating just then, he would have, knowing that anything he put into his body was only going to amplify the sick feeling, weighing him down until he eventually succumbed to the heaviness of his anxiety. He couldn’t get out of it, though, and scrambled to shove a spoonful of miso soup into his mouth, hoping it would release the uneasiness that had crept up in the dining hall as people began to eat around him.  
  
It didn’t.  
  
Instead, the silence was broken by a stern-looking dowager empress from what Yuuri thought might be the Cloud Empire—off the southernmost coast of the Day Kingdom—by addressing him directly. He certainly wasn’t very good at social interaction in this type of situation, but he was pretty sure that Empress Lilia Baranovskaya was somehow out of line. And yet no one dared to point this out to her. “Yuuri, tell us what you think of the genocide occurring in rural areas of the Constellations. I’ve heard that the Night Kingdom was pulling their army out while there were still Black Hole members conducting a mass culling of apparently undesirable citizens.”  
  
Yuuri was hit with this news like a ton of bricks, his jaw practically dropping as he looked around in hopes that Celestino would be somewhere nearby to rescue him. No dice. This was definitely some kind of payback for never reading what he was signing, surely. He began to sputter, going red in the face and chest as he realized that everyone had stopped eating only to stare at him while he was trying to think of an excuse. “Well… I—”  
  
“Could it be that you’re preparing to officially declare war on the Day Kingdom instead? It would explain Viktor’s presence here, and that certainly is a curiosity all on its own.”  
  
“Why would I—”  
  
“After the recent annexing of Dawn and Daybreak, I’m sure it’s been on your mind. Think of it as a peacekeeping mission. That’s always been Night’s excuse to fight.”  
  
“ _What—_ ”  
  
“So, what is it then? Speak up. What is your opinion?”  
  
The Dowager Empress was intimidating, from the way her hair was pulled straight back on her head to the severe line of her mouth, and Yuuri could feel that she had so much more power and influence than he ever would, even from across the table. He had no idea what he was doing; he was already painfully aware of that fact and it wasn’t hard for him to admit it to himself. No matter what he said in this situation, though… he would simply be throwing himself to the lions. If he admitted out loud that he didn’t know anything she was talking about, he would be admitting his incompetence and the other nobility would look down on him. But if he tried to bullshit his way through an answer, they would know he was making it up and he’d be no further ahead than if he just told the truth.  
  
And what _was_ his opinion, anyway? He was certain that Night Kingdom had always been a serene and discourse-free nation—it was true that the small army they did have were often referred to as Peacekeepers, because they usually only went to war to mediate rather than to engage in combat. If Yuuri had to choose, there wouldn’t be any wars at all and therefore, no need for Peacekeepers, but to say that would just be a child’s idealistic dream. He looked to Viktor, hoping for some kind of answer from him as he could already see the other guests turning to whisper among themselves. He could barely breathe through the thickness of the air. “I just… don’t—”  
  
“Actually, troops were pulled from the Constellations to regroup and restock. Provisions were getting low, and Night’s Peacekeepers have suffered a substantial loss at the hands of the Black Hole. Day Kingdom is lending Night two of our top squadrons to help keep order, as well as aid in bringing in relief for those who are being affected by the war. At this point, it’s been agreed that perhaps having an artillery unit may be in the Constellations’ best interest for dissuading Black Hole from killing any more of their citizens.” Viktor quickly came to Yuuri’s rescue as if reading his mind, and the young royal was grateful, though he couldn’t help being reminded exactly how useless he was to his kingdom just with the silverette’s few words.  
  
The Empress didn’t seem so impressed, keeping her sharp, green gaze on Yuuri the whole time Viktor spoke. “Is that right.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and Yuuri knew instantly that she wasn’t buying it; his shame amplified tenfold.  
  
“That’s right,” Viktor affirmed, apparently not at all swayed by the fact that the Empress did not believe him, and following swiftly with, “It’s not Yuuri’s fault that Cloud Empire is always in the middle of some skirmish or other. Maybe if its ruler wasn’t so bitter, things would be different. You can’t take that out on him.”  
  
This time when the room went silent, all eyes were on Viktor. Clearly, he’d said something he shouldn’t have, and yet no one was about to tell him he was wrong. If he hadn’t been there, Yuuri knew his feeble attempts to defend himself would have been the butt of all jokes that evening, and somehow the young King felt like that was expected of events like this. Without anyone to laugh at, dinner stayed mostly quiet except for some light chatter at the other end of the table. Yuuri kept his eyes on his meal as each course was served successively, too afraid to look up and see Lilia glaring at him or Viktor glancing over periodically with concern. It was bad enough that a hand under the table had crept across onto his knee, squeezing in what Yuuri was sure was supposed to be a reassuring manner, but he didn’t feel reassured at all.  
  
He just felt useless.

 

* * *

  
After dinner, the guests filed back out into the ballroom—the banquet was strategically timed to coincide with a meteor shower that was supposed to be visible over the ocean. The glass ballroom was, of course, the perfect vantage point to watch from. Musicians played some of Night's traditional dances and nobility mostly milled about, standing in groups and talking idly, though there was a hollowed out space in the center of the room where a handful of couples attempted the steps that matched the music, laughing when they inevitably tripped over each other. The most entertaining couple was likely Guang Hong as he led the much taller Leo de la Iglesia, who was the heir to a business empire based solely on the installation of solar panels and the distribution of the electricity that they generated. Yuuri was surprised to note that the groups were quite mixed between leaders from both sides of The Horizon, and there was some small part of him that felt hopefully warm at the sight. In some part, he felt responsible for this; he could have completely shut down the idea of the banquet from the start and never allowed it to take place. If he had honestly said no, then there could have been no dispute.  
  
On the other hand, he couldn't take credit for everything that his advisor had orchestrated. It still made him feel good to see history being made on the marble floor of his ballroom, but he knew that it had nothing to do with him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that it did. A hundred years from now when the Day and Night kingdoms were amalgamated in an empire called Nychthemeron, when there was little distinction between the people on either side of the horizon and the feuds were all over, Yuuri would be credited as the one who held this banquet. It made him feel uneasy, like lying to a friend, and he swallowed down the sickness that followed. He really was useless.  
  
“Yuuri!” As the first streak of light shot across the sky, everyone turned to watch out the windows, some even gasping softly. It made it easy to spot the pink ombre of Viktor's jacket, a gloved hand waving frantically with an endearing heart-shaped smile painted across his features. Chris stood just behind him wearing a small smirk and a skintight one-piece with mesh panels on the sides. The revealing glimpse Yuuri got as Chris turned to the side to watch the beginning of the meteor shower made him certain that The Horizon's prince was not wearing underwear.  
  
Timidly, he approached, dipping through the crowd to find Viktor. The Day King's hand automatically snatched his once he was within reach, and Yuuri's first instinct was to pull away; he jerked, but Viktor's hand only squeezed his tighter for an instant, then releasing so it could crawl up his forearm to his elbow, tugging him just a little closer so it could snake across the midnight blue satin covering his back to rest on his opposite shoulder. There was no escaping it now, and Yuuri felt his heart as it hammered away in his chest. Part of him wanted to look around, see how many people were staring. The rest insisted he didn't care—this was _his_ decision, and there was power in that.  
  
Wasn't there?  
  
“Pretty, isn't it?” the Night King asked as flaming balls burst into the atmosphere, shooting across the sky and raining into the ocean. No matter how many times he saw it, the showers would always be a special sort of magical to Yuuri.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and in concern, Yuuri peeled his eyes off the sky to glance at Viktor. The Day King was staring down at him, expression soft and fond, but not quite smiling. Just watching. The brilliant bursts illuminated his eyes and hair with streaks of gold and Yuuri held his breath when Viktor confirmed, “Absolutely stunning.”  
  
He felt his cheeks heating impossibly, knew that the paleness of his skin was betraying him as it inflamed with Viktor's words, and he stumbled over his response, “I... I meant the meteors....” Of course he did. How stupid of him. The flush intensified and Yuuri wanted to bury himself.  
  
“Of course. The meteors.” Finally, Viktor looked away, and for whatever reason, it felt like release. Yuuri breathed in again, counting the time between inhales and exhales as Viktor's hand on his shoulder tightened. He didn't even realize until it was almost too late that he was being pulled in against the Day King's chest, and in his panic, he stopped Viktor when he was just inches away from meeting his lips. Viktor paused, his expression questioning, but relented when he saw Yuuri glancing around them, making sure no one was watching what they were doing. Then his eyes fell, tracing the gold stitching of Viktor's jacket, and a rush of breath sounded from above him. Not exasperated, just.... Yuuri thought it sounded tired.  
  
“If we leave now, no one will notice,” Viktor murmured, barely loud enough for Yuuri to hear. It took him another moment of examining the people around them to make a decision, and he took Viktor's hand, making himself as small as possible to slip back through the crowd. He just hoped no one would say anything, or that if they did, they would chalk Yuuri's rushed exit with Viktor in tow up to the Night King's shyness and aversion to large groups of people. It was the one time he ever found himself thinking about his uselessness as a benefit.  
  
They made it down the corridor and into the entrance hall without a word between them, picking up nearly into a run with a sort of desperation that was charging between them. There was an electric sort of heat pooling where their hands connected, fingers laced and palms pressed together while Yuuri led the way not to his own room but toward Viktor's, figuring they would be safer there. If someone noticed Yuuri missing, the first place that would be checked was his own suite; considering the events of the last twenty-four hours, Viktor's would be the second place, but he supposed that would give them at least _some_ alone time. Enough for Yuuri to repay last night's favour, anyway.  
  
The only thing he wasn't banking on was rounding the corner into the East Wing only to collide with Phichit, who did his best to right them both before either could hit the ground. “For the love of Night, watch where you're— Yuuri! Are you alright? I—” Phichit sounded as surprised as Yuuri felt, though as soon as he looked over the royal's shoulder, he took on a much different tone. “ _Oh._ Yeah, you're just fine, aren't you?” With an almost unparalleled lack of concern, Yuuri's valet twisted to sweep around them, making off as quickly as he could.  
  
Not quick enough for Yuuri's hand to shoot out, fingers locking around his forearm. “Phichit, wait. I want to talk.” There was a pause then where Phichit's eyes met the ground, narrowed venomously enough to make Yuuri uncomfortable. Viktor excused himself, promising to meet Yuuri when he was finished, and the two were left together in the cavernous silence of the palace halls. Phichit waited, said nothing, refused to look up, and finally, Yuuri had had enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

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